u are going out?"

"Yes, immediately."

"To the _House_, I suppose."

This is very impressive. It doesn't mean, as you might think, the
Workhouse, or the White House, or the Station House, or the Bon Marche.
It is the name given by people of Lady Cicely's class to the House of
Commons.

"Yes. I am extremely sorry. I had hoped I might ask to go with you to
the opera. I fear it is impossible--an important sitting--the Ministers
will bring down the papers--the Kafoonistan business. The House will
probably divide in committee. Gatherson will ask a question. We must
stop it at all costs. The fate of the party hangs on it."

Sir John has risen. His manner has changed. His look is altered. You can
see him alter it. It is now that of a statesman. The technical details
given above have gone to his head. He can't stop.

He goes on: "They will force a closure on the second reading, go into
committee, come out of it again, redivide, subdivide and force us to
bring down the estimates."

While Sir John speaks, Lady Cicely's manner has been that of utter
weariness. She has picked up the London _Times_ and thrown it aside;
taken up a copy of _Punch_ and let it fall with a thud to the floor,
looked idly at a piece of music and decided, evidently, _not_ to sing
it. Sir John runs out of technical terms and stops.

The dialogue has clearly brought out the following points: Sir John is
in the House of Commons. Lady Cicely is not. Sir John is twenty-five
years older than Lady Cicely. He doesn't see--isn't he a fool, when
everybody in the gallery can see it?--that his parliamentary work is
meaningless to her, that her life is insufficient. That's it. Lady
Cicely is being "starved." All that she has is money, position, clothes,
and jewelry. These things starve any woman. They cramp her. That's what
makes problem plays.

Lady Cicely speaks, very quietly, "Are you taking Mr. Harding with you?"

"Why?"

"Nothing. I thought perhaps I might ask him to take me to the opera.
Puffi is to sing."

"Do, pray do. Take Harding with you by all means. Poor boy, do take him
with you."

Sir John pauses. He looks at Lady Cicely very quietly for a moment. He
goes on with a slight change in his voice.

"Do you know, Cicely, I've been rather troubled about Harding lately.
There's something the matter with the boy, something wrong."

"Yes?"

"He seems abstracted, moody--I think, in fact I'm sure that the boy is
in love."

"Yes?"

Lady Cice