[SPURRELL _enlightens her on this point_; ARCHIE _glowers_. _Lady Cantire_ (_perceiving that the_ Bishop _is showing signs of restiveness_). Well, Bishop, I wish I could find you a little more ready to listen to what the other side has to say! _The Bishop_ (_who has been "heckled" to the verge of his endurance._) I am--ah--not conscious of any unreadiness to enter into conversation with the very estimable lady on my other side, should an opportunity present itself. _Lady Cantire._ Now, that's one of your quibbles, my dear Bishop, and I detest quibbling! But at least it shows you haven't a leg to stand upon. _The Bishop._ Precisely--nor to--ah--run away upon, dear lady. I am wholly at your mercy, you perceive! _Lady Cantire_ (_triumphantly_). Then you _admit_ you're beaten? Oh, I don't despair of you _yet_, Bishop. _The Bishop._ I confess I am less sanguine. (_To himself._) Shall I have strength to bear these buffets with any remains of Christian forbearance through three more courses? Ha, thank Heaven, the salad! [_He cheers up at the sight of this olive-branch._ _Mrs. Earwaker_ (_to_ PILLINER). Now, I don't altogether approve of the New Woman myself; but still, I am glad to see how women are beginning to assert themselves and come to the front; surely you sympathise with all that? _Pilliner_ (_plaintively_). No, really I _can't_, you know! I'd so much rather they _wouldn't_. They've made us poor men feel positively obsolete! They'll snub us out of existence soon--our sex will be extinct--and then they'll be sorry. There'll be nobody to protect them from one another! After all, we can't help being what we are. It isn't _my_ fault that I was born a Man Thing--now, _is_ it? _Lady Cantire_ (_overhearing this remark_). Well, if it _is_ a fault, Mr. Pilliner, we must all acknowledge that you've done everything in your power to correct it! _Pilliner_ (_sweetly_). How nice and encouraging of you, dear Lady Cantire, to take up the cudgels for me like that! [Lady CANTIRE _privately relieves her feelings by expressing a preference for taking up a birch rod, and renews her attack on the_ Bishop. _Mr. Shorthorn_ (_who has been dragging his mental depths for a fresh topic--hopefully, to_ Miss SPELWANE). By the bye, I haven't asked you what you thought about these--er--revolting daughters? _Miss Spelwane._ No, you haven't; and I thought it _so_ considerate of you. [Mr. SHORTHORN _gives up dragging, in discouragement_. _Pilliner_ (_sotto voce, to_ Miss SPELWANE). Have you quite done sitting on that poor unfortunate man? _I_ heard you! _Miss Spelwane_ (_in the same tone_). I'm afraid I _have_ been rather beastly to him. But, oh, he _is_ such a bore--he _would_ talk about his horrid "silos," till I asked him whether they would eat out of his hand. After that, the subject dropped--somehow.