CHAMBERLAIN. Yes, but you will come back. I shan't.
DIST. V. But—in all its essentials—what you stand for will.
CHAMBERLAIN. As a hang-fire, perhaps, while parties temporise and readjust themselves to a new balance. But never the same thing again. The time for it has gone. I missed it.
DIST. V. You mustn't be depressed, Chamberlain. Great policies, new orientations, need careful nursing—testing too. Conditions are changing very rapidly.
CHAMBERLAIN. Mine are getting worse. I have two nurses now—night and day: and I obey orders.
DIST. V. You do well to remind me. You shouldn't have let me tire you.
(And so saying he rises.)
CHAMBERLAIN. You don't. You used to, now and then, when we didn't agree. You had the deliberate mind, your own fixed rate of progression: one couldn't hurry you. And your semitones, and semicircles, and semi-quavers used sometimes to worry me, I own. They don't now: having become a monotone myself, I acquiesce. I'm the slow one, now: you've set me my pace…. Here I sit, stock still.
DIST. V. (lightly diverting the conversation from its impending embarrassment). With your old associates still round you, I see!
(And he touches a trail of blossom admiringly, as he continues:)