Part 31

SIGSBY. (He snatches the damaged hat from JAWBONES, to hand it back the next moment; holds it out.) Woman’s contribution to politics. Get me a collar at the same time—sixteen and a half.

(JAWBONES takes his cap and goes out. The men hang up their overcoats.)

SIGSBY. Where’s it all going to end? That’s what I want to know!

ST. HERBERT. Where most things end. In the millennium, according to its advocates. In the ruin of the country, according to its opponents. In mild surprise on the part of the next generation that ever there was any fuss about it.

SIGSBY. In amazement, you mean, that their fathers were so blind as not to see where it was leading. My boy, this is going to alter the whole relationship between the sexes!

ST. HERBERT. Is it so perfect as it is?

(A silence.)

Might it not be established on a more workable, a more enduring basis if woman were allowed a share in the shaping of it?

(Some woman in the crowd starts the refrain, “We’ll hang old Asquith on a sour apple tree.” It is taken up with quiet earnestness by others.)

SIGSBY. Shaping it! Nice sort of shape it will be by the time that lot (with a gesture, including the crowd, LADY MOGTON & CO.) have done knocking it about. Wouldn’t be any next generation to be surprised at anything if some of them had their way.

ST. HERBERT. The housebreakers come first—not a class of work demanding much intelligence; the builders come later. Have you seen Chilvers?

LAMB. I left him at the House. He couldn’t get away.

SIGSBY. There’s your object-lesson for you. We don’t need to go far. A man’s whole career ruined by the wife he nourishes.

ST. HERBERT. How do you mean, “ruined?”

SIGSBY. So it is. If she wins the election and claims the seat. Do you think the Cabinet will want him? Their latest addition compelled to appeal to the House of Commons to fight for him against his own womenfolk. (Grunts.) He’ll be the laughing-stock of the whole country.

ST. HERBERT. Do you know for certain that they mean to claim the seat?

SIGSBY. “Wait and see” is their answer.

LAMB. Hasn’t Chilvers any idea?

SIGSBY. Can’t get him to talk. Don’t think he’s seen her since that shindy over the Deputation.

LAMB. Humph!

SIGSBY. Even if she herself wished to draw back, the others would overrule her.

LAMB. I’m not so sure of that. She’s got a way of shutting her mouth that reminds me of my old woman.

SIGSBY. The arrangement, as he explained it to me, was that the whole thing was to end with the polling. It was to have been a mere joke, a mere ballon d’essai. The mistake he made was thinking he could depend on her.

LAMB. Guess she made the same mistake. You can fight and shake hands afterwards; it doesn’t go with kissing.

SIGSBY. Man and woman were not made to fight. It was never intended.

(The woman’s “Marseillaise” has been taken up by the crowd. The chorus has been reached.)

Oh, damn your row! (He slams to the window; it was ajar.)

(JAWBONES has entered, with his purchases.)