Phoebe. You see, it mustn’t be a crank.
Geoffrey. (He is losing his temper.) Yes, I suppose that does limit you.
Elizabeth. And then—thanks to you—Mrs. Chilvers has had such excellent training in politics. It was that, I think, that decided us.
Geoffrey. (Convention forbids his strangling her.) Will somebody kindly introduce me to this lady?
St. Herbert. Ah, yes, of course. You don’t know each other, do you? Mr. Geoffrey Chilvers—Mrs. Joseph Spender. Mrs. Spender—Mr. Chilvers, M.P.
Elizabeth. (Sweetly.) Delighted!
Geoffrey. (Not.) Charmed.
Lady Mogton. (To Annys.) I am not indifferent to your difficulty. But the history of woman, my dear Annys, is a history of sacrifice. We give our sons—if necessary, our husbands.
Mrs. Mountcalm-Villiers. (Affected.) How true!
Annys. But you are not asking me to give him. You are asking me to fight him. I can’t.