O'CONNELL. Have you not? [_With grim ambiguity._] Then I am sorry for you, Mr. Trebell. [_Having said all he had to say, he notices_ HORSHAM.] Yes, Lord Horsham, by all means . . _Then_ HORSHAM _opens the library door and sees him safely through. He passes_ TREBELL _without any salutation, nor does_ TREBELL _turn after him; but when_ HORSHAM _also is in the library and the door is closed, comments viciously_. TREBELL. The man's a sentimentalist . . like all men who live alone or shut away. [_Then surveying his three glum companions, bursts out._] Well . . ? We can stop thinking of this dead woman, can't we? It's a waste of time. FARRANT. Trebell, what did you want to come here for? TREBELL. Because you thought I wouldn't. I knew you'd be sitting round, incompetent with distress, calculating to a nicety the force of a scandal. . . BLACKBOROUGH. [_With the firmest of touches._] Horsham has called some of us here to discuss the situation. I am considering my opinion. TREBELL. You are not, Blackborough. You haven't recovered yet from the shock of your manly feelings. Oh, cheer up. You know we're an adulterous and sterile generation. Why should you cry out at a proof now and then of what's always in the hearts of most of us? FARRANT. [_Plaintively._] Now, for God's sake, Trebell . . O'Connell has been going on like that. TREBELL. Well then . . think of what matters. BLACKBOROUGH. Of you and your reputation in fact. FARRANT. [_Kindly._] Why do you pretend to be callous? _He strokes_ TREBELL'S _shoulder, who shakes him off impatiently_. TREBELL. Do you all mean to out-face the British Lion with me after to-morrow . . dare to be Daniels? BLACKBOROUGH. Bravado won't carry this off. TREBELL. Blackborough . . it would immortalize you. I'll stand up in my place in the House of Commons and tell everything that has befallen soberly and seriously. Why should I flinch? FARRANT. My dear Trebell, if your name comes out at the inquest-- TREBELL. If it does! . . whose has been the real offence against Society . . hers or mine? It's I who am most offended . . if I choose to think so. BLACKBOROUGH. You seem to forget the adultery. TREBELL. Isn't Death divorce enough for her? And . . oh, wasn't I right? . . What do you start thinking of once the shock's over? Punishment . . revenge . . uselessness . . waste of me. FARRANT. [_With finality._] If your name comes out at the inquest, to talk of anything but retirement from public life is perfect lunacy . . and you know it. HORSHAM _comes back from the passage. He is a little distracted; then the more so at finding himself again in a highly-charged atmosphere._ HORSHAM. He's gone off with Wedgecroft. TREBELL. [_Including_ HORSHAM _now in his appeal._] Does anyone think he knows me now to be a worse man . . less fit, less able . . than he did a week ago? _From the piano-stool comes_ CANTELUPE'S _quiet voice_. CANTELUPE. Yes, Trebell . . I do. TREBELL _wheels round at this and ceases all bluster_.