TRANTO. Do you mean you intend to refuse?

CULVER. Do you mean you ever imagined that I should accept? Me, in the
same galley with Brill--who daren't go into his own clubs--and Ullivant,
and a few more pretty nearly as bad! Of course, I shall refuse. Nothing
on earth would induce me to accept. Nothing! (_More calmly_.) Mind you,
I don't blame the Government; probably the Government can't help itself.
Therefore the Government must be helped; and sometimes the best way to
help a fellow creature is to bring him to his senses by catching him one
across the jaw.

TRANTO. Why are you making a secret of it? The offer is surely bound to
come out.

CULVER. Of course. I'm only making a secret of it for the moment, while
I prepare the domestic ground for my refusal.

TRANTO. You wish me to understand--

CULVER. You know what women are. (_With caution_.) I speak of the sex in
general.

TRANTO. I see.

CULVER. That's all right.

TRANTO. Well, if I mayn't congratulate you on the title, let me
congratulate you on your marvellous skill in this delicate operation of
preparing the domestic ground for your refusal of the title. Your
success is complete, absolute.