Mar. (_quietly_). Oh, yes. I'll take the consequences. [_Exeunt Margaret and Freddie._ Lady M. (_sitting on Chesterfield and motioning Peter to sit by her. Gladys sits opposite_). Young men are so susceptible to a pretty face. Don't you think so, Mr. Garside? (_Quickly._) Oh, but of course you are serious-minded. Peter (_glancing at Gladys_). I'm not beauty-proof, Lady Mottram. Lady M. Ah, but real beauty is so rare. Peter. That's why it haunts me. Lady M. Is there a case in point? Peter. Yes. Lady M. (_insincerely_). How romantic! Do tell us about it, Mr. Garside. Peter (_eyeing Gladys_). Shall I? Glad. Do please. Peter. It is romantic, Lady Mottram. I didn't think such beauty could be earthly. It came upon me just as I stood speaking at a street corner one night, a face on the outskirts of my audience. I was tired and it gave me strength. My voice was failing, but it rang out fresh again to reach those ears. I've seen it many times since then, that angel's face with a halo, always at the fringe of the crowd, always an inspiration, eyes that yearned to mine across the sea of caps and drew my very soul into my words. I thought it was a dream. Could the same clay that moulded me be shaped to this vision? Until to-night I didn't know such women could exist. Lady M. (_trying to appear interested_). It's a woman, then. Peter. Woman or goddess, she's alive. Yes. Lady M. She'd be flattered if she heard you now. Peter. I'm not flattering her. [_Re-enter Freddie._ Fred. I've seen her off the premises. Lady M. Don't interrupt. Mr. Garside's telling us about a woman with a wonderful face who's been inspiring his speeches. Fred, (_sitting r.c._). Oh, yes? A face that launched a thousand speeches? Bit of a responsibility for any face. Lady M. And who is she, Mr. Garside? Peter. I didn't know. Glad. What a pity. She'll never know what she's been to you. Peter. I think she knows now, Miss Mottram. Fred. Fair Unknown inspires your speeches, your speeches inspire electors, electors elect you, and it'll be Garsidc, M.P., when it ought to be Fair Unknown, M.P. Peter. Only the electors haven't elected me yet. Fred. I hear they're going to. Peter (_confidently_). It's highly probable. Lady M. Do you know London, Mr. Garside? Peter. No, but I hope to shortly. Fred. You must let me show you round. You'll feel strange at first. Peter. I'm not afraid of London. If it's a case of London conquering me or me conquering London I know which will win. Fred. Going to be one of our conquerors, eh? Peter. I mean to try. I've got ambitions. Fred. Thank God, I haven't. A cosy club and a decent cigar are good enough for me. Please count me conquered in advance. (_Lolling easily in chair._) Lady M. But has a Labour member such opportunities of--er--conquering London, Mr. Garside? Peter. If he puts them to the right use. Yes--there's money in it. Fred, (_sitting up, interested_). Money? I'll be a Labour member. I like money.