MRS. G. I must so often have been in the way without knowing it. You see, you and I think differently. We belong to different schools.
MORLEY. If you go on, I shall have to say "angel," again. That is all I can say.
MRS. G. (tremulously). Oh, Mr. Morley, you will tell me! Is this the end? Has he—has he, after all, been a failure?
MORLEY. My dear lady, he has been an epoch.
MRS. G. Aren't epochs failures, sometimes?
MORLEY. Even so, they count; we have to reckon with them. No, he is no failure; though it may seem like it just now. Don't pay too much attention to what the papers will say. He doesn't, though he reads them. Look at him now!—does that look like failure?
(He points to the exuberantly energetic figure intensely absorbed in its game.)
MRS. G. He is putting it on to-night a little, for me, Mr. Morley. He knows I am watching him. Tell me how he seemed when he first spoke to you. Was he feeling it—much?
MORLEY. Oh, deeply, of course! He believes that on a direct appeal we could win the election.
MRS. G. And you?