[They gradually resume their seats, and more sits in KATHERINE’s
     chair.  She alone remains standing leaning against the corner of
     the bay window, watching their faces.]

Banning.  You’ve seen the morning’s telegrams?  I tell you, Mr. More—­another reverse like that, and the flood will sweep you clean away.  And I’ll not blame it.  It’s only flesh and blood.

More, Allow for the flesh and blood in me, too, please.  When I spoke the other night it was not without a certain feeling here. [He touches his heart.]

Banning.  But your attitude’s so sudden—­you’d not been going that length when you were down with us in May.

More.  Do me the justice to remember that even then I was against our policy.  It cost me three weeks’ hard struggle to make up my mind to that speech.  One comes slowly to these things, Banning.

Shelder.  Case of conscience?

More.  Such things have happened, Shelder, even in politics.

Shelder.  You see, our ideals are naturally low—­how different from yours!

     [More smiles.]

     Katherine, who has drawn near her husband, moves back again, as
     if relieved at this gleam of geniality.  Wace rubs his hands.

Banning.  There’s one thing you forget, sir.  We send you to Parliament, representing us; but you couldn’t find six men in the whole constituency that would have bidden you to make that speech.

More.  I’m sorry; but I can’t help my convictions, Banning.

Shelder.  What was it the prophet was without in his own country?

Banning.  Ah! but we’re not funning, Mr. More.  I’ve never known feeling run so high.  The sentiment of both meetings was dead against you.  We’ve had showers of letters to headquarters.  Some from very good men—­very warm friends of yours.

Shelder.  Come now!  It’s not too late.  Let’s go back and tell them you won’t do it again.

More.  Muzzling order?

Banning. [Bluntly] That’s about it.

More.  Give up my principles to save my Parliamentary skin.  Then, indeed, they might call me a degenerate! [He touches the newspapers on the table.]

     Katherine makes an abrupt and painful movement, then remains as
     still as before, leaning against the corner of the window-seat.

Banning.  Well, Well!  I know.  But we don’t ask you to take your words back—­we only want discretion in the future.

More.  Conspiracy of silence!  And have it said that a mob of newspapers have hounded me to it.

Banning.  They won’t say that of you.

Shelder.  My dear More, aren’t you rather dropping to our level?  With your principles you ought not to care two straws what people say.