Eugenia [to herself, taking up a paper]. There is no doubt that we must carry through this bill or the future of the country will be jeopardized.
Henry [outside]. May I come in?
Eugenia. Do come in, dearest.
Henry [a tall, athletic man of thirty, faultlessly dressed, a contrast to her dusty untidiness]. I thought I could see the procession best from here. [Goes to windows and opens them.] It is in sight now. They are coming down the wind at a great pace.
Eugenia [slightly bored]. What procession?
Henry. Why the Men’s Reinfranchisement League, of course. You know, Eugenia, you promised to interview a deputation of them at 5 o’clock, and they determined to have a mass meeting first.
Eugenia. So they did. I had forgotten. I wish they would not pester me so. Really, the government has other things to attend to than Male Suffrage at times like this.
[The procession sails past the windows in planes decked with the orange and white colours of the league. The occupants preserve a dead silence, saluting Eugenia gravely as they pass. From the streets far below rises a confused hubbub of men’s voices shouting “Votes for men!”
Henry. How stately the clergy look, Eugenia! Why, there are the two Archbishops in their robes heading the whole procession, and look at the bevy of Bishops in their lawn sleeves in the great Pullman air car behind. What splendid men. And here come the clergy in their academic gowns by the hundred, in open trucks.