Glad. Will you let my brother in, Mrs. Garside? [_Mrs. Garside goes right, and opens door, goes through and lets Fred. in._ Fred, (_to Gladys_). Thought you'd gone to sleep. (_Seeing Jones._) Hello! Our friend of the election. Glad, (_impatiently_). Never mind these men. Come away. Fred. Well, don't snap a fellow's head off. (_Ned and Jones quietly go out right._) Sorry I've been so long, only----- Glad. It doesn't matter. (_Raising her voice, looking left_). Mr. Garside's been an entertainment in himself. Fred, (_crossing_). Where is he? In there? Glad, (_crossing to right door_). Oh, will you come? Fred. Must do the decent by our Member, you know. Glad. He's not our Member, he's resigned. Fred. Good Lord! Why? Glad. Oh, can't you see we're not wanted here? Fred. (_crossing towards her_). All right. Don't get vicious. Nothing to lose your temper over, is it? Glad. I've lost more than my temper. I've lost a chance.... Oh, never mind. What's the next train for Midlandton? Fred. Train? What you want's some supper. We've two more days of town. Glad. Yes. We'll eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die. You're standing me champagne to-night, Freddie. [_She goes out right. Fred, looks after her, puzzled, crosses, and shakes Mrs. Garside's limp hand._ Fred. Good night, Mrs. Garside. [_He follows Gladys. Mrs. Garside goes right, the outer door closes, she turns light off in the hall and re-enters, closing the door behind her. Peter reenters left, composed._ Peter. Have they all gone? Mrs. G. Yes. (_Pathetically puzzled._) What does it all mean, Peter? Peter. Mean? Ruin. My career's blasted. (_Sits at table, turning chair towards her._) Mrs. G. But why, Peter? I can't understand it. I---- Peter. Why? Because I was too successful. Jealousy. That's it. They do nothing themselves, but they won't give young blood a chance. Mediocrity's their motto. They've no use for brains. So I'm kicked out. Mrs. G. Don't take on about it, deary. They'll find they can't do without you. Peter. You'd always faith, hadn't you, mother? (_Turning to table and putting his head on his hands._) But I've fallen like Lucifer, never to rise again. Mrs. G. (_struck with a new delightful thought, hesitating to utter it_). Peter, it means--it means---- Peter (_not turning_). What? Mrs. G. (_standing centre_). Oh, I'm so glad. Peter (_leaping up angrily, and turning on her_). Glad! Mrs. G. I've been so unhappy here. I shall be glad to be in Midlandton again. Peter (_disgustedly_). Midlandton! (_Shuddering._) Those grimy streets reeking of poverty. Mrs. G. (_reproachfully_). Peter! Midlandton is home. [_She gives way a little. Peter stands centre._ Peter. Yes. After all, why not? The wounded lion crawls to its lair to die. (_Pause, looking straight out._) I wonder. Am I a lion or only an ass braying in a lion's skin? CURTAIN. ACT IV