"I don't believe the country is on the verge of civil war," said Mr.
Britling.

"Facts!" cried Lady Frensham, and seemed to wipe away delusions with a
rapid gesture of her hands.

"You're interested in Ireland, Mr. Dirks?" asked Lady Homartyn.

"We see it first when we come over," said Mr. Direck rather neatly, and
after that he was free to attend to the general discussion.

Lady Frensham, it was manifest, was one of that energetic body of
aristocratic ladies who were taking up an irreconcilable attitude
against Home Rule "in any shape or form" at that time. They were rapidly
turning British politics into a system of bitter personal feuds in which
all sense of imperial welfare was lost. A wild ambition to emulate the
extremest suffragettes seems to have seized upon them. They insulted,
they denounced, they refused every invitation lest they should meet that
"traitor" the Prime Minister, they imitated the party hatreds of a
fiercer age, and even now the moderate and politic Philbert found
himself treated as an invisible object. They were supported by the
extremer section of the Tory press, and the most extraordinary writers
were set up to froth like lunatics against the government as "traitors,"
as men who "insulted the King"; the _Morning Post_ and the
lighter-witted side of the Unionist press generally poured out a torrent
of partisan nonsense it is now almost incredible to recall. Lady
Frensham, bridling over Lady Homartyn's party, and for a time leaving
Mr. Britling, hurried on to tell of the newest developments of the great
feud. She had a wonderful description of Lady Londonderry sitting
opposite "that old rascal, the Prime Minister," at a performance of
Mozart's _Zauberfloete_.

"If looks could kill!" cried Lady Frensham with tremendous gusto.

"Sir Edward is quite firm that Ulster means to fight. They have
machine-guns--ammunition. And I am sure the army is with us...."

"Where did they get those machine-guns and ammunition?" asked Mr.
Britling suddenly.

"Ah! that's a secret," cried Lady Frensham.

"Um," said Mr. Britling.

"You see," said Lady Frensham; "it _will_ be civil war! And yet you
writing people who have influence do nothing to prevent it!"

"What are we to do, Lady Frensham?"

"Tell people how serious it is."

"You mean, tell the Irish Nationalists to lie down and be walked over.
They won't be...."

"We'll see about that," cried Lady Frensham, "we'll see about that!"

She was a la