MAGGIE. I can make a speech, and I will make a speech, and it's in
two words, and they're these [holding out her arms to enfold all the
members of the Cowcaddens Club]--My Constituents! [Dementia.]




ACT III

[A few minutes ago the Comtesse de la Briere, who has not recently
been in England, was shown into the London home of the Shands. Though
not sufficiently interested to express her surprise in words, she
raised her eyebrows on finding herself in a charming room; she has
presumed that the Shand scheme of decoration would be as impossible
as themselves.

It is the little room behind the dining-room for which English
architects have long been famous; 'Make something of this, and you
will indeed be a clever one,' they seem to say to you as they unveil
it. The Comtesse finds that John has undoubtedly made something of
it. It is his 'study' (mon Dieu, the words these English use!) and
there is nothing in it that offends; there is so much not in it too
that might so easily have been there. It is not in the least ornate;
there are no colours quarrelling with each other (unseen, unheard by
the blissful occupant of the revolving chair); the Comtesse has not
even the gentle satisfaction of noting a 'suite' in stained oak.
Nature might have taken a share in the decorations, so restful are
they to the eyes; it is the working room of a man of culture,
probably lately down from Oxford; at a first meeting there is nothing
in it that pretends to be what it is not. Our visitor is a little