brown
features, and grey moustaches; to SIR JOHN's right, his brother,
the DEAN OF STOUR, a tall, dark, ascetic-looking Churchman: to
his right KATHERINE is leaning forward, her elbows on the table,
and her chin on her hands, staring across at her husband; to her
right sits EDWARD MENDIP, a pale man of forty-five, very bald,
with a fine forehead, and on his clear-cut lips a smile that
shows his teeth; between him and MORE is HELEN JULIAN, a pretty
dark-haired young woman, absorbed in thoughts of her own. The
voices are tuned to the pitch of heated discussion, as the
curtain rises.

THE DEAN. I disagree with you, Stephen; absolutely, entirely
disagree.

MORE. I can't help it.

MENDIP. Remember a certain war, Stephen! Were your chivalrous
notions any good, then? And, what was winked at in an obscure young
Member is anathema for an Under Secretary of State. You can't
afford----

MORE. To follow my conscience? That's new, Mendip.

MENDIP. Idealism can be out of place, my friend.

THE DEAN. The Government is dealing here with a wild lawless race,
on whom I must say I think sentiment is rather wasted.

MORE. God made them, Dean.

MENDIP. I have my doubts.

THE DEAN. They have proved themselves faithless. We have the right
to chastise.

MORE. If I hit a little man in the eye, and he hits me back, have I
the right to chastise him?

SIR JOHN. We didn't begin this business.

MORE. What! With our missionaries and our trading?

THE DEAN. It is news indeed that the work of civilization may be
justifiably met by murder. Have you forgotten Glaive and Morlinson?

SIR JOHN. Yes. And that poor fellow Groome and his wife?

MORE. They went into a wild country, against the feeling of the
tribes, on their own business. What has the nation to do with the
mishaps of gamblers?

SIR JOHN. We can't stand by and see our own flesh and blood
ill-treated!

THE DEAN. Does our rule bring blessing--or does it not, Stephen?

MORE. Sometimes; but with all my soul I deny the fantastic
superstition that our rule can benefit a people like this, a nation
of one race, as different from ourselves as dark from light--in
colour, religion, every mortal thing. We can only pervert their
natural instincts.

THE DEAN. That to me is an unintelligible point of view.

MENDIP. Go into that philosophy of yours a little deeper, Stephen--
it spells stagnation. The