TREBELL. I'm told that's degrading . . the influencing of husbands and brothers and sons. LUCY. [_Only half humorously._] But what else is one to do with them? Of course, I've enough money to live on . . so I could take up some woman's profession. . . What are you smiling at? TREBELL. [_Who has smiled very broadly._] As you don't mean to . . don't stop while I tell you. LUCY. But I'd sooner get married. I want to have children. [_The words catch him and hold him. He looks at her reverently this time. She remembers she has transgressed convention; then, remembering that it is only convention, proceeds quite simply._] I hope we shall have children. TREBELL. I hope so. LUCY. Thank you. That's the first kind thing you've said. TREBELL. Oh . . you can do without compliments, can't you? _She considers for a moment._ LUCY. Why have you been talking to me as if I were someone else? TREBELL. [_Startled._] Who else? LUCY. No one particular. But you've shaken a moral fist so to speak. I don't think I provoked it. TREBELL. It's a bad parliamentary habit. I apologise. _She gets up to go._ LUCY. Now I shan't keep you longer . . you're always busy. You've been so easy to talk to. Thank you very much. TREBELL. Why . . I wonder? LUCY. I knew you would be or I shouldn't have come. You think Life's an important thing, don't you? That's priggish, isn't it? Good-bye. We're coming to dinner . . Aunt Julia and I. Miss Trebell arrived to ask us just as I left. TREBELL. I'll see you down. LUCY. What waste of time for you. I know how the door opens. _As she goes out_ WALTER KENT _is on the way to his room. The two nod to each other like old friends._ TREBELL _turns away with something of a sigh_. KENT. Just come? LUCY. Just going. KENT. I'll see you at dinner. LUCY. Oh, are you to be here? . . that's nice. LUCY _departs as purposefully as she came_. KENT _hurries to_ TREBELL, _whose thoughts are away again by now_. KENT. I haven't been long there and back, have I? The Bishop gave me these letters for you. He hasn't answered the last . . but I've his notes of what he means to say. He'd like them back to-night. He was just going out. I've one or two notes of what Evans said. Bit of a charlatan, don't you think? TREBELL. Evans? KENT. Well, he talked of his Flock. There are quite fifteen letters you'll have to deal with yourself, I'm afraid. TREBELL _stares at him: then, apparently, making up his mind_ . . TREBELL. Ring up a messenger, will you . . I must write a note and send it. KENT. Will you dictate? TREBELL. I shall have done it while you're ringing . . it's only a personal matter. Then we'll start work. KENT _goes into his room and tackles the telephone there_. TREBELL _sits down to write the note, his face very set and anxious_. THE THIRD ACT At LORD HORSHAM'S house in Queen Anne's Gate, in the evening, a week later.