Peter (_arguing hotly_). Except as an advertisement. We shan't have too much money to spend on printers' bills. We ean't buy hoardings like the capitalist parties. And here's a glorious advertisement simply going begging. We can have it at the cost of your forgetting some imaginary scruple of delicacy. Elections aren't delicate affairs. Mar. No. But our love is. Mrs. G. If your love's so finicky it can't stand daylight, it's not worth much. A love like that _'_ull not last long. Peter. You're right there, mother. Mrs. G. (_eagerly_). She wants to hold you back, she'd like to see you tied to engineering all your life. For why? She's wild because you're going up in the world. She knows she's not fit to go up with you, so she's trying to keep you where you are. That's why she refuses to help. Mar. I don't refuse to help. I'm going to help. Peter. Yes, anything except the only way that's helpful. I don't want other help. Mar. You can't go without it. You can't stop me working for the cause. Mrs. G. Yes, and you'd work harder for any other candidate than Peter. I know you. Mar. Not harder, but certainly with a better will. Peter (_soberly_). Margaret, you're standing in my way. Oh, I owe a lot to you. I don't forget it. But... But a man has to rely on his own judgment. If I took your advice, I'd wreck my career. You've always underrated me. You thought I wouldn't get my degree. I did get my degree. And I'll prove you wrong again. I'll be M.P. before six weeks are out. Mar. I say again: Go on and prosper. Mrs. G. And she means you can prosper without her, and a good riddance too, I say. Peter. Do you mean that, Margaret? Mar. I think we'll wait a little, Peter. You've other things to think of now. Peter. You said that when I started studying. Mar. I say it again now when you're starting electioneering. Peter (_losing temper_). And after that there'll be something else and something after that, and so on, till Doomsday _'_ull see us still unmarried. I begin to think you never mean to marry me. Mrs. G. It's about time you did begin to think it, too. Mar. (_suffering_). Oh, Peter, why won't you understand? Peter. Because you're not reasonable. (_Slight pause._) Tell me this. Do you think I'm not fit for Parliament? Mar. (_painfully_). Yes, dear. I do. Peter (_roughly_). Don't call me dear. If that's the way you talk, you're not dear to me. Mrs. G. I've seen it for long enough--her thinking meanly of you and the rest of us knowing different, and you for ever hearkening to her as if she was Almighty God. Mar. (_facing Mrs. Garside_). I won't stand this. Mrs. G. You've got to. You're shown up now. Peter. This means you've no faith in me, Margaret. And if you've no faith, you've no love---- Mar. (_despairingly_). Peter, you mustn't say such things. Mrs. G. You can't get away from the truth, my girl. Peter. I say them beeause they're true. It's for you to prove me wrong. Mar. How? Tell me how?