BLACKBOROUGH. [_Non-committal himself._] Perhaps it was a subject that compromised nobody. LADY DAVENPORT. Do you think my daughter has been wasting her time and her tact? FARRANT. [_Clapping him on the shoulder._] Blackborough's frankly flabbergasted at the publicity of this intrigue. MRS. FARRANT. Intrigue! Mr. Trebell walked across the House ... actually into your arms. BLACKBOROUGH. [_With a certain dubious grimness._] Well ... we've had some very interesting talks since. And his views upon Education are quite ... Utopian. Good bye, Miss Trebell. FRANCES TREBELL. Good-bye. MRS. FARRANT. I wouldn't be so haughty till after the election, if I were you, Mr. Blackborough. BLACKBOROUGH. [_Indifferently._] Oh, I'm glad he's with us on the Church question ... so far. MRS. FARRANT. So far as you've made up your minds? The electoral cat will jump soon. BLACKBOROUGH. [_A little beaten by such polite cynicism._] Well ... our conservative principles! After all we know what they are. Good-night, Mrs. O'Connell. AMY O'CONNELL. Good-night. FARRANT. Your neuralgia better? AMY O'CONNELL. By fits and starts. FARRANT. [_Robustly._] Come and play billiards. Horsham and Maconochie started a game. They can neither of them play. We left them working out a theory of angles on bits of paper. WALTER KENT. Professor Maconochie lured me on to golf yesterday. He doesn't suffer from theories about that. BLACKBOROUGH. [_With approval._] Started life as a caddie. WALTER KENT. [_Pulling a wry face._] So he told me after the first hole. BLACKBOROUGH. What's this, Kent, about Trebell's making you his secretary? WALTER KENT. He thinks he'll have me. BLACKBOROUGH. [_Almost reprovingly._] No question of politics? FARRANT. More intrigue, Blackborough. WALTER KENT. [_With disarming candour._] The truth is, you see, I haven't any as yet. I was Socialist at Oxford ... but of course that doesn't count. I think I'd better learn my job under the best man I can find ... and who'll have me. BLACKBOROUGH. [_Gravely._] What does your father say? WALTER KENT. Oh, as long as Jack will inherit the property in a Tory spirit! My father thinks it my wild oats. _A Footman has come in._ THE FOOTMAN. Your car is round, sir. BLACKBOROUGH. Ah! Good-night, Miss Davenport. Good-bye again, Mrs. Farrant ... a charming week-end. _He makes a business-like departure_, FARRANT _follows him._ THE FOOTMAN. A telephone message from Dr. Wedgecroft, ma'am. His thanks; they stopped the express for him at Hitchin and he has reached London quite safely. MRS. FARRANT. Thank you. [_The Footman goes out._ MRS. FARRANT _exhales delicately as if the air were a little refined by_ BLACKBOROUGH'S _removal._] MRS. FARRANT. Mr. Blackborough and his patent turbines and his gas engines and what not are the motive power of our party nowadays, Fanny. FRANCES TREBELL. Yes, you claim to be steering plutocracy. Do you never wonder if it isn't steering you?