The Dean.  It is news indeed that the work of civilization may be justifiably met by murder.  Have you forgotten Glaive and Morlinson?

Sir John.  Yes.  And that poor fellow Groome and his wife?

More.  They went into a wild country, against the feeling of the tribes, on their own business.  What has the nation to do with the mishaps of gamblers?

Sir John.  We can’t stand by and see our own flesh and blood ill-treated!

The Dean.  Does our rule bring blessing—­or does it not, Stephen?

More.  Sometimes; but with all my soul I deny the fantastic superstition that our rule can benefit a people like this, a nation of one race, as different from ourselves as dark from light—­in colour, religion, every mortal thing.  We can only pervert their natural instincts.

The Dean.  That to me is an unintelligible point of view.

Mendip.  Go into that philosophy of yours a little deeper, Stephen—­ it spells stagnation.  There are no fixed stars on this earth.  Nations can’t let each other alone.

More.  Big ones could let little ones alone.

Mendip.  If they could there’d be no big ones.  My dear fellow, we know little nations are your hobby, but surely office should have toned you down.

Sir John.  I’ve served my country fifty years, and I say she is not in the wrong.

More.  I hope to serve her fifty, Sir John, and I say she is.

Mendip.  There are moments when such things can’t be said, More.

More.  They’ll be said by me to-night, Mendip.

Mendip.  In the House?

     [More nods.]

Katherine.  Stephen!

Mendip.  Mrs. More, you mustn’t let him.  It’s madness.

More. [Rising] You can tell people that to-morrow, Mendip.  Give it a leader in ‘The Parthenon’.

Mendip.  Political lunacy!  No man in your position has a right to fly out like this at the eleventh hour.

More.  I’ve made no secret of my feelings all along.  I’m against this war, and against the annexation we all know it will lead to.

Mendip.  My dear fellow!  Don’t be so Quixotic!  We shall have war within the next twenty-four hours, and nothing you can do will stop it.

Helen.  Oh!  No!

Mendip.  I’m afraid so, Mrs. Hubert.

Sir John.  Not a doubt of it, Helen.

Mendip. [To more] And you mean to charge the windmill?

     [More nods.]

Mendip.  ‘C’est magnifique’!

More.  I’m not out for advertisement.

Mendip.  You will get it!

More.  Must speak the truth sometimes, even at that risk.