MORLEY. Precisely. You have guessed right.
MRS. G. He always thinks of me.
MORLEY. Yes.
MRS. G. Won't you sit down, Mr. Morley?
MORLEY. By you? With pleasure.
MRS. G. And how is the world using you?
MORLEY. Like Balaam's ass. The angel of the Lord stands before me with a drawn sword, and my knees quail under me.
MRS. G. I thought you didn't believe in angels, Mr. Morley.
MORLEY. In the scriptural sense, no. In the political, they are rare; but one meets them—sometimes.
MRS. G. And then they frighten you?