You’re not going to see those fellows? BENNETT. They’ll insist on seeing Mrs. Winter. GEORGE WINTER. Then I shall send for her. ETCHINGHAM. Oh, you needn’t think she’ll back you up in your confounded lies. GEORGE WINTER. [_Blandly._] Anyhow, I dare say you’d like to wait and see. ETCHINGHAM. [_Suspiciously._] Have you got something up your sleeve? GEORGE WINTER. My dear fellow, our sex would be at an impossible disadvantage in its dealings with the other, if it were not for the most obstinate of all their passions.... Self-sacrifice. ETCHINGHAM. You’re counting on that? GEORGE WINTER. You’ve given Kate such a training in it that I can’t help thinking it has become a habit. ETCHINGHAM. I won’t say a word to move her. [_He flings himself heavily into a chair. Already half his heroic resolutions have evaporated._ GEORGE WINTER _watches him with cynical amusement_. GEORGE WINTER. Like all great men I leave as little as possible to chance. ETCHINGHAM. [_With a start._] Perigal? GEORGE WINTER. That’s it. BENNETT. D’you think there’s a chance, Governor? GEORGE WINTER. We must risk it. It’s the last fling. [_The_ BUTLER _ushers in_ MR. SWALECLIFFE, JAMES FORD _and_ COLONEL BOYCE. MR. SWALECLIFFE _is a Nonconformist Minister, clean shaven, with a sallow grave face_. JAMES FORD _is a wealthy man, a pillar of the Nonconformist church in Middlepool and a local politician of importance; he is a large man, stout, oldish, badly dressed, with a slight North Country accent; he gives the impression of shrewdness, but also of complete honesty and straightforwardness_. COLONEL BOYCE, _who is_ GEORGE WINTER’S _agent, is spare and tall, bronzed, with grey hair and a grey waxed moustache; alert, neatly dressed and dapper. He is the kind of retired military man who may be seen by the score in Bath, Tunbridge Wells or Cheltenham._ THOMPSON. Mr. Swalecliffe, Mr. James Ford, Colonel Boyce. [_Exit._ GEORGE WINTER. How d’you do? I’m delighted to see you! I hope I haven’t kept you waiting? JAMES FORD. Not a bit! It’s of no consequence. GEORGE WINTER. Let me introduce you to my father-in-law. Mr. Swalecliffe--Lord Francis Etchingham. [MR. SWALECLIFFE _bows stiffly. He is not going to open his mouth if he can help it._ GEORGE WINTER. Mr. James Ford. JAMES FORD. Pleased to meet you, Lord Francis. ETCHINGHAM. It’s very kind of you to say so. GEORGE WINTER. When I suggested to Lord Francis that it would be more convenient for you to come here, he put his house at my disposal. My wife is staying here, you know. We’re doing up the house in Portman Square, and she can’t stand the smell of paint. BOYCE. [_Anxious to make things easy._] Naturally. I don’t like it myself. GEORGE WINTER. How is your wife, Mr. Swalecliffe? Well, I trust. SWALECLIFFE. Thank you. GEORGE WINTER. And the children? SWALECLIFFE. Yes, thank you. GEORGE WINTER.