FARRANT.  Blackborough’s going, Julia.

MRS. FARRANT.  Yes, George.

LADY DAVENPORT. [Concluding her little apologue to MISS TREBELL.] Yes, my dear, but power without responsibility isn’t good for the character that wields it either.

[There follows FARRANT through the window a man of fifty.  He has about him that unmistakeable air of acquired wealth and power which distinguishes many Jews and has therefore come to be regarded as a solely Jewish characteristic.  He speaks always with that swift decision which betokens a narrowed view.  This is RUSSELL BLACKBOROUGH; manufacturer, politician ... statesman, his own side calls him.]

BLACKBOROUGH. [To his hostess.] If I start now, they tell me, I shall get home before the moon goes down.  I’m sorry I must get back to-night.  It’s been a most delightful week-end.

MRS. FARRANT. [Gracefully giving him a good-bye hand.] And a successful one, I hope.

FARRANT.  We talked Education for half an hour.

MRS. FARRANT. [Her eyebrows lifting a shade.] Education!

FARRANT.  Then Trebell went away to work.

BLACKBOROUGH.  I’ve missed the music, I fear.

MRS. FARRANT.  But it’s been Bach.

BLACKBOROUGH.  No Chopin?

MRS. FARRANT.  For a minute only.

BLACKBOROUGH.  Why don’t these new Italian men write things for the piano! 
Good-night, Lady Davenport.

LADY DAVENPORT. [As he bows over her hand.] And what has Education to do with it?

BLACKBOROUGH. [Non-committal himself.] Perhaps it was a subject that compromised nobody.

LADY DAVENPORT.  Do you think my daughter has been wasting her time and her tact?

FARRANT. [Clapping him on the shoulder.] Blackborough’s frankly flabbergasted at the publicity of this intrigue.

MRS. FARRANT.  Intrigue!  Mr. Trebell walked across the House ... actually into your arms.

BLACKBOROUGH. [With a certain dubious grimness.] Well ... we’ve had some very interesting talks since.  And his views upon Education are quite ...  Utopian.  Good bye, Miss Trebell.

FRANCES TREBELL.  Good-bye.

MRS. FARRANT.  I wouldn’t be so haughty till after the election, if I were you, Mr. Blackborough.

BLACKBOROUGH. [Indifferently.] Oh, I’m glad he’s with us on the Church question ... so far.

MRS. FARRANT.  So far as you’ve made up your minds?  The electoral cat will jump soon.

BLACKBOROUGH. [A little beaten by such polite cynicism.] Well ... our conservative principles!  After all we know what they are.  Good-night, Mrs. O’Connell.

AMY O’CONNELL.  Good-night.

FARRANT.  Your neuralgia better?

AMY O’CONNELL.  By fits and starts.

FARRANT. [Robustly.] Come and play billiards.  Horsham and Maconochie started a game.  They can neither of them play.  We left them working out a theory of angles on bits of paper.