O'Cal. (_leaning across towards Jones, Peter and Margaret still standing behind near left door_). And have we got our free state yet? Let you wait to be talking of freedom and free-loving men and women till we've had our glorious revolution, and in the dawning of that day---- Jones (_leaping up, interrupting_). There must be pioneers. Some of _us_ must set the example. (_Appealing to Peter and Margaret._) Even at the price of martyrdom, of ostracism by coarse-minded oafs who cannot understand, I call on you, Miss Shawcross, to dispense with the worn-out form of marriage. Be free lovers---- Ned. Comrade Jones, you're a married man yourself (_Jones sits dozen abruptly, silenced_), and we're here on business. And after you're married, Peter? Jones (_murmuring disgustedly_). Married! Peter (_lightly_). Oh, live happily ever afterwards. My horizon doesn't go beyond that. Ned. Doesn't it? Well, listen to me. There'll be a by-election here shortly. Peter. Why? (_Peter leaves Margaret and comes forward to chair right of table._) Ned. Ramsden's resigning South-west Midlandton. Jones. About time the old hypocrite did, too. Peter. This is news to me. Ned. I know that. It was news to us last night. The question is, do we run a candidate this time? Peter. We ought to. It's a labour seat by rights. Jones. If only the thick-headed fools would sec their own interests. Peter (_turning_). Margaret, you'll have to give me back my word. (_Slight pause._) Jones. What word's that? Peter. I've promised to give up public speaking. (_They look at Margaret in disgusted protest. She speaks quickly._) Mar. Oh, you shall speak if there's an election. Ned. That's right. All hands to the pump. Mar. I'll speak myself. O'Cal. It's a risky thing for you. Miss Shaweross. Mar. The cause comes first. O'Cal. Before bread and butter? You'll lose your job if they hear of it. Mar. I must hope they won't hear. Ned. You're going too fast. There's two things in the way. One's money. The other's a man. Peter. Surely the Central people have a good man ready to fight. Ned. No. We've got to find the man, before they help us with money. They're a bit down on our chances unless we find a strong local man. A local man should pull it off where an outsider might fail. Problem is to find him. O'Cal. Faith, and we've found him. Peter. Yourself, Mr. Applegarth? Ned. I'm the wrong side of fifty, and I'm no speaker. Guess again. Peter. It's got to be a local man? Jones. That's essential. Peter. I can't think of anyone who's big enough for that job. Jones. Nor we couldn't neither. We gave it up last night and called another meeting at the Club to-night. And there we sat, the whole executive, no better than a parcel of tongue-tied fools, when O'Callagan bursts in and tells us---- Ned. Yes, Peter Garside, b.a., there's you. [_Margaret shrinks back still further._ Mrs. G. (_going round to him_). Peter! My son a Member of Parliament!