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ould I have a word with you on the crisis, before dinner, Lord William? LORD W. It's time you and James were up, Poulder. [Indicating the cooler] Look after this; tell Lady William I'll be there in a minute. POULDER. Very good, me Lord. [He goes, followed by JAMES carrying the cooler.] [As THE PRESS turns to look after them, LORD WILLIAM catches sight of his back.] LORD W. I must apologise, sir. Can I brush you? PRESS. [Dusting himself] Thanks; it's only behind. [He opens his note-book] Now, Lord William, if you'd kindly outline your views on the national situation; after such a narrow escape from death, I feel they might have a moral effect. My paper, as you know, is concerned with--the deeper aspect of things. By the way, what do you value your house and collection at? LORD W. [Twisting his little mustache] Really: I can't! Really! PRESS. Might I say a quarter of a million-lifted in two seconds and a half-hundred thousand to the second. It brings it home, you know. LORD W. No, no; dash it! No! PRESS. [Disappointed] I see--not draw attention to your property in the present excited state of public feeling? Well, suppose we approach it from the viewpoint of the Anti-Sweating dinner. I have the list of guests--very weighty! LORD W. Taken some lifting-wouldn't they? PRESS. [Seriously] May I say that you designed the dinner to soften the tension, at this crisis? You saw that case, I suppose, this morning, of the woman dying of starvation in Bethnal Green? LORD W. [Desperately] Yes-yes! I've been horribly affected. I always knew this slump would come after the war, sooner or later. PRESS. [Writing] "... had predicted slump." LORD W. You see, I've been an Anti-Sweating man for years, and I thought if only we could come together now.... PRESS. [Nodding] I see--I see! Get Society interested in the Sweated, through the dinner. I have the menu here. [He produces it.] LORD W. Good God, man--more than that! I want to show the people that we stand side by side with them, as we did in the trenches. The whole thing's too jolly awful. I lie awake over it. [He walks up and down.] PRESS. [Scribbling] One moment, please. I'll just get that down-- "Too jolly awful--lies awake over it. Was wearing a white waistcoat with pearl buttons." [At a sign of resentment from his victim.] I want the human touch, Lord William--it's everything
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