[_Peter enters. He has gained considerably in self-confidence, and enters rather defiantly. Exit Timson._ Fred, (_stepping forward_). Good evening, Mr. Garside. Peter (_seeing Margaret, and seeing red. Ignoring Fred._). You here! Mar. Lady Mottram sent for me. Peter. It's a very suspicious circumstance. I find you here in the enemy's camp, looking confused, guilty. You'd better explain yourself. Fred, (_offering hand again, emphatically_). Good evening, Mr. Garside. Why's it the enemy's camp, when mayors are neutral at elections? Peter (_carelessly, just touching his hand_). Oh, good evening. Sir Jasper is officially neutral, sir. But he is actually chairman of the Employers' Federation, and, as such, our bitterest enemy. Feed. By the way, you're here yourself, you know. Peter. I am paying an official visit to the Mayor. It's different with this lady. She works for me--ostentatiously. She's supposed to be addressing a meeting for me at this moment. Instead, I find her here, playing the traitor and betraying me to my political enemies. Fred. I always thought it wanted a lot of imagination to be a politician. Does yours often bolt like this? Peter. That's not very convincing. (_Brushing him aside._) Excuse me, Mr. Mottram. I must get to the bottom of this. (_To Margaret._) What have you to say for yourself? Mar. Nothing. Fred. Quite right, too. Some things are too silly to reply to. Peter. Then I shall draw my own conclusions. [_Peter is left, Freddie centre, and Margaret right._ Fred. I'd advise you to draw _'_em mild. (_Turning to Margaret._) This isn't your lucky night, Miss Shaw-cross. Mar. It doesn't matter, Mr. Mottram. Fred. Yes, it does. If you won't tell Mr. Garside why you're here, I will. Mar. (_appealingly_). Please don't. (_Proudly._) My personal affairs are no concern of Mr. Garside's. Peter. And meantime let me tell you, sir, that your ardour to defend the lady only makes bad worse. Fred. Good Lord! I always said politicians were people who hadn't the brains to be frivolous, but I never knew they were quite so stupid. Why, man----------- [_Enter Lady Mottram and Gladys. Fred stops abruptly._ Lady M. (_sweetly_). So pleased you've come, Mr. Gar-side. Peter (_quite sure of himself_). Good evening, Lady Mottram. Lady M. Mr. Garside, my daughter. (_Gladys meets Peter's eyes and bows; he starts perceptibly._) So sorry Sir Jasper isn't here to welcome you, but I hope my son's made you feel quite at home. Fred. We've talked like brothers. Lady M. (_realising Margaret's presence_). Miss Shaw-eross, I think I told you you could go. Will you ring, Freddie? Fred. I'll sec Miss Shaweross out. [_Lady Mottram shrugs, and turns virtuously away. Fred, opens door, and Margaret moves to it._ Peter (_as she goes past_). Where are you going? Mar. I'm going to speak. I'm advertised to speak. Peter. For me? Mar. (_frigidly_). No, Socialism. Lady M. (_turning_). Then you will take the consequences.