More.  My country, right or wrong!  Guilty—­still my country!

Mendip.  That begs the question.

     [Katherine rises.  The Dean, too, stands up.]

The Dean. [In a low voice] ’Quem Deus volt perdere’——!

Sir John.  Unpatriotic!

More.  I’ll have no truck with tyranny.

Katherine.  Father doesn’t admit tyranny.  Nor do any of us, Stephen.

Hubert Julian, a tall Soldier-like man, has come in.

Helen.  Hubert!

     [She gets up and goes to him, and they talk together near the
     door.]

Sir John.  What in God’s name is your idea?  We’ve forborne long enough, in all conscience.

More.  Sir John, we great Powers have got to change our ways in dealing with weaker nations.  The very dogs can give us lessons—­ watch a big dog with a little one.

Mendip.  No, no, these things are not so simple as all that.

More.  There’s no reason in the world, Mendip, why the rules of chivalry should not apply to nations at least as well as to—–­dogs.

Mendip.  My dear friend, are you to become that hapless kind of outcast, a champion of lost causes?

More.  This cause is not lost.

Mendip.  Right or wrong, as lost as ever was cause in all this world.  There was never a time when the word “patriotism” stirred mob sentiment as it does now.  ’Ware “Mob,” Stephen—–­’ware “Mob”!

More.  Because general sentiment’s against me, I—­a public man—­am to deny my faith?  The point is not whether I’m right or wrong, Mendip, but whether I’m to sneak out of my conviction because it’s unpopular.

The Dean.  I’m afraid I must go. [To Katherine] Good-night, my dear!  Ah!  Hubert! [He greets Hubert] Mr. Mendip, I go your way.  Can I drop you?

Mendip.  Thank you.  Good-night, Mrs. More.  Stop him!  It’s perdition.

     [He and the Dean go out.  Katherine puts her arm in Helen’s, and
     takes her out of the room.  Hubert remains standing by the door]

Sir John.  I knew your views were extreme in many ways, Stephen, but I never thought the husband of my daughter would be a Peace-at-any-price man!

More.  I am not!  But I prefer to fight some one my own size.

Sir John.  Well!  I can only hope to God you’ll come to your senses before you commit the folly of this speech.  I must get back to the War Office.  Good-night, Hubert.

Hubert.  Good-night, Father.

     [Sir John goes out.  Hubert stands motionless, dejected.]

Hubert.  We’ve got our orders.