[He turns to Jams between whom and himself there is still the
     freemasonry of the trenches.]

James. [Pointing to Poulder] Be’ind the parapet, me Lord.

     [The press mopes out from where he has involuntarily been.
     screened by Poulder, who looks at James severely.  Lord William
     hides a smile.]

Press.  Very glad to meet you, Lord William.  My presence down here is quite involuntary.

Lord W. [With a charming smile] I know.  The Press has to put its—­ er—­to go to the bottom of everything.  Where’s this bomb, Poulder?  Ah!

     [He looks into the wine cooler.]

Press. [Taking out his note-book] Could I have a word with you on the crisis, before dinner, Lord William?

Lord W. It’s time you and James were up, Poulder. [Indicating the cooler] Look after this; tell Lady William I’ll be there in a minute.

Poulder.  Very good, me Lord.

     [He goes, followed by James carrying the cooler.]

     [As the press turns to look after them, lord William catches
     sight of his back.]

Lord W. I must apologise, sir.  Can I brush you?

Press. [Dusting himself] Thanks; it’s only behind. [He opens his note-book] Now, Lord William, if you’d kindly outline your views on the national situation; after such a narrow escape from death, I feel they might have a moral effect.  My paper, as you know, is concerned with—­the deeper aspect of things.  By the way, what do you value your house and collection at?

Lord W. [Twisting his little mustache] Really:  I can’t!  Really!

Press.  Might I say a quarter of a million-lifted in two seconds and a half-hundred thousand to the second.  It brings it home, you know.

Lord W. No, no; dash it!  No!

Press. [Disappointed] I see—­not draw attention to your property in the present excited state of public feeling?  Well, suppose we approach it from the viewpoint of the Anti-Sweating dinner.  I have the list of guests—­very weighty!

Lord W. Taken some lifting-wouldn’t they?

Press. [Seriously] May I say that you designed the dinner to soften the tension, at this crisis?  You saw that case, I suppose, this morning, of the woman dying of starvation in Bethnal Green?

Lord W. [Desperately] Yes-yes!  I’ve been horribly affected.  I always knew this slump would come after the war, sooner or later.

Press. [Writing] “. . . had predicted slump.”

Lord W. You see, I’ve been an Anti-Sweating man for years, and I thought if only we could come together now . . . .

Press. [Nodding] I see—­I see!  Get Society interested in the Sweated, through the dinner.  I have the menu here. [He produces it.]