Especially the women the property qualification would bring in. (_He glances at_ JEAN _as though for the first time conscious of her silence._) You see now (_he throws himself into the chair by the table_) one reason why I've encouraged you to take an interest in public affairs. Because people like us don't go screaming about it, is no sign we don't (some of us) see what's on the way. However little they want to, women of our class will have to come into line. All the best things in the world--everything that civilisation has won will be in danger if--when this change comes--the only women who have practical political training are the women of the lower classes. Women of the lower classes, and (_his brows knit heavily_)--women inoculated by the Socialist virus. JEAN. Geoffrey. STONOR (_draws the telegraph form towards him_). Let us see, how we shall put it--when the time comes--shall we? (_He detaches a pencil from his watch chain and bends over the paper, writing._) (JEAN _opens her lips to speak, moves a shade nearer the table and then falls back upon her silent, half-incredulous misery._) STONOR (_holds the paper off, smiling_). Enough dynamite in that! Rather too much, isn't there, little girl? JEAN. Geoffrey, I know her story. STONOR. Whose story? JEAN. Miss Levering's. STONOR. _Whose?_ JEAN. Vida Levering's. (STONOR _stares speechless. Slight pause._) (_The words escaping from her in a miserable cry_) Why did you desert her? STONOR (_staggered_). I? _I?_ JEAN. Oh, why did you do it? STONOR (_bewildered_). What in the name of---- What has she been saying to you? JEAN. Some one else told me part. Then the way you looked when you saw her at Aunt Ellen's--Miss Levering's saying you didn't know her--then your letting out that you knew even the curious name on the handkerchief---- Oh, I pieced it together---- STONOR (_with recovered self-possession_). Your ingenuity is undeniable! JEAN.--and then, when she said that at the meeting about "the dark hour" and I looked at your face--it flashed over me---- Oh, _why_ did you desert her? STONOR. I _didn't_ desert her. JEAN. Ah-h! (_Puts her hands before her eyes._) (STONOR _makes a passionate motion towards her, is checked by her muffled voice saying_) I'm glad--I'm glad! (_He stares bewildered._ JEAN _drops her hands in her lap and steadies her voice._) She went away from you, then? STONOR. You don't expect me to enter into---- JEAN. She went away from you? STONOR (_with a look of almost uncontrollable anger_). Yes! JEAN. Was that because you wouldn't marry her? STONOR. I couldn't marry her--and she knew it. JEAN. Did you want to? STONOR (_an instant's angry scrutiny and then turning away his eyes_). I thought I did--_then_. It's a long time ago. JEAN. And why "couldn't" you? STONOR (_a movement of strong irritation cut short_). Why are you catechising me? It's a matter that concerns another woman.