CHAMBERLAIN. In politics can one afford to be quite—sincere? Openly, I mean?
DIST. V. You have been—far more than others I could name.
CHAMBERLAIN. That is a friendly judgment. Others wouldn't say so. If a man stays in politics till he ceases to be important, while others remain important, there's bound to be a change of relations.
DIST. V. In our case I don't admit that it has happened.
CHAMBERLAIN. Don't you? You were our partyleader. I broke away; so you had to break me. From your point of view you were right. I thought I knew the game better than you. I made a mistake.
DIST. V. Do you mean, then, that you intended to break me?
CHAMBERLAIN. Oh, no. But I meant to—persuade you.
DIST. V. My view is that you did—very thoroughly. Surely I went a long way—conceded a great deal.
CHAMBERLAIN. "Half a sheet of note-paper" was the measure of it. Yes, that speech was a great success, and you remained our leader. But your halving of that sheet was the beginning of—my defeat, your victory.
DIST. V. I don't recognise either. At this moment we are both defeated, in a sense: out of office, that is to say.