not undress in my presence. I protest. Not even your letter from
the Prime Minister--

THE SUFFRAGET. My dear Mitchener: I AM the Prime Minister. (He
tears off his hat and cloak; throws them on the desk; and
confronts the General in the ordinary costume of a Cabinet
minister.)

MITCHENER. Good heavens! Balsquith!

BALSQUITH (throwing himself into Mitchener's chair). Yes: it is
indeed Balsquith. It has come to this: that the only way that the
Prime Minister of England can get from Downing Street to the War
Office is by assuming this disguise; shrieking "VOTES for Women";
and chaining himself to your doorscraper. They were at the corner
in force. They cheered me. Bellachristina herself was there. She
shook my hand and told me to say I was a vegetarian, as the diet
was better in Holloway for vegetarians.

MITCHENER. Why didnt you telephone?

BALSQUITH. They tap the telephone. Every switchboard in London is
in their hands or in those of their young men.

MITCHENER. Where on Earth did you get that dress?

BALSQUITH. I stole it from a little Exhibition got up by my wife
in Downing Street.

MITCHENER. You dont mean to say its a French dress?