ANNYS. Simply that I am a woman. GEOFFREY. My dear child, that won’t be enough. Why should they vote for you merely because you’re a woman? ANNYS. (_Slightly astonished_.) Because—because women are wanted in public life. GEOFFREY. Who wants them? ANNYS. (_More astonished_.) Who? Why—(_it doesn’t seem too clear_.) Why, all of us—you, yourself! GEOFFREY. I’m not East Poplar. ANNYS. (_Is puzzled a moment_, _then valiantly_.) I shall ask them to send me to Parliament to represent the interests of their women—and therefore of themselves—the interests of their children. GEOFFREY. Children! What do you know about children? (_Another silence_.) ANNYS. Personally—no. We have had no children of our own, of course. But (_hopefully_) it is a woman’s instinct. GEOFFREY. Oh, Lord! That’s what the lady said who had buried seven. ANNYS. (_Her mouth is growing hard_.) Don’t you believe in the right of women to share in the government of the country? GEOFFREY. Some women. Yes. I can see some capable— ANNYS. (_Winces_.) GEOFFREY. —elderly, motherly woman who has brought up a dozen children of her own—who knows the world, being of some real use. ANNYS. If it comes to that, there must be—I don’t say more “capable,” but more experienced, more fatherly men than yourself. (_He turns_, _they look at one another_. _His tone almost touched contempt—hers was veiled anger_.) GEOFFREY. _That’s_ the danger. It may come to a real fight. ANNYS. (_Upon her also the fear has fallen_.) It must not. (_She flings her arms around him_.) We must show the world that man and woman can meet—contend in public life without anger, without scorn. GEOFFREY. (_He folds her to him_.) The very words sound ugly, don’t they? ANNYS. It would be hideous. (_She draws away_.) How long will the election last? GEOFFREY. Not long. The writ will be issued on Wednesday. Nomination on Monday—polling, I expect, on Saturday. Puts me in mind—I must prepare my election address. ANNYS. I ought to be getting on with mine, too, I suppose. GEOFFREY. It ought to be out by to-morrow. ANNYS. (_With inspiration_.) We’ll do yours first. (_She wonders why he hesitates_.) GEOFFREY. “We?” Shan’t I have to do it alone—this time? ANNYS. Alone! Nonsense! How can you? GEOFFREY. I’m afraid I shall have to try. ANNYS. Um! I suppose you’re right. What a nuisance! (_She turns away_.) I shan’t like it. GEOFFREY. (_He moves towards the folding-doors_.) No. It won’t be quite the same thing. Goodbye. ANNYS. (_She crosses to her desk by the window_. _Not the same instant but the next his_ “_Goodbye_” _strikes her_. _She turns_.) You’re not going out, are you? GEOFFREY. (_He stops and turns—puzzled at her question_.) No. Only into my study. ANNYS. You said “Goodbye.”