More.  Conglomerate excrescence.  Mud of street and market-place gathered in a torrent—­This blind howling “patriotism”—­what each man feels in here? [He touches his breast] No!

Mendip.  You think men go beyond instinct—­they don’t.  All they know is that something’s hurting that image of themselves that they call country.  They just feel something big and religious, and go it blind.

More.  This used to be the country of free speech.  It used to be the country where a man was expected to hold to his faith.

Mendip.  There are limits to human nature, Stephen.

More.  Let no man stand to his guns in face of popular attack.  Still your advice, is it?

Mendip.  My advice is:  Get out of town at once.  The torrent you speak of will be let loose the moment this news is out.  Come, my dear fellow, don’t stay here!

More.  Thanks!  I’ll see that Katherine and Olive go.

Mendip.  Go with them!  If your cause is lost, that’s no reason why you should be.

More.  There’s the comfort of not running away.  And—­I want comfort.

Mendip.  This is bad, Stephen; bad, foolish—­foolish.  Well!  I’m going to the House.  This way?

More.  Down the steps, and through the gate.  Good-bye?

Katherine has come in followed by Nurse, hatted and cloaked, with a small bag in her hand.  Katherine takes from the bureau a cheque which she hands to the Nurse.  More comes in from the terrace.

More.  You’re wise to go, Nurse.

Nurse.  You’ve treated my poor dear badly, sir.  Where’s your heart?

More.  In full use.

Nurse.  On those heathens.  Don’t your own hearth and home come first?  Your wife, that was born in time of war, with her own father fighting, and her grandfather killed for his country.  A bitter thing, to have the windows of her house broken, and be pointed at by the boys in the street.

     [More stands silent under this attack, looking at his wife.]

Katherine.  Nurse!

Nurse.  It’s unnatural, sir—­what you’re doing!  To think more of those savages than of your own wife!  Look at her!  Did you ever see her look like that?  Take care, sir, before it’s too late!

More.  Enough, please!

     Nurse stands for a moment doubtful; looks long at Katherine;
     then goes.

More. [Quietly] There has been a victory.

[He goes out.  Katherine is breathing fast, listening to the distant hum and stir rising in the street.  She runs to the window as the footman, Henry, entering, says:  “Sir John Julian, Ma’am!” Sir John comes in, a newspaper in his hand.]

Katherine.  At last!  A victory!