egins removing LITTLE ANNE.]

L. ANNE. Let me stay, Daddy; I haven't seen anything yet! If I go,
I shall only have to come down again when they loot the house.
Listen!

[The hoarse strains of the Marseillaise are again heard from the
distance.]

LORD W. [Blandly] Take her up, Poulder!

L. ANNE. Well, I'm coming down again--and next time I shan't have
any clothes on, you know.

[They vanish between the pillars. LORD WILLIAM makes a sign of
dismissal. The FOOTMAN file out.]

LEMMY. [Admiringly] Luv'ly pyces!

LORD W. [Pleasantly] Now then; let's have our talk, Mr.----

LEMMY. Lemmy.

PRESS. [Who has slipped his note-book out] "Bombed and Bomber face
to face----"

LEMMY. [Uneasy] I didn't come 'ere agyne on me own, yer know. The
Press betryed me.

LORD W. Is that old lady your mother?

LEMMY. The syme. I tell yer stryte, it was for 'er I took that old
bottle o' port. It was orful old.

LORD W. Ah! Port? Probably the '83. Hope you both enjoyed it.

LEMMY. So far-yus. Muvver'll suffer a bit tomower, I expect.

LORD W. I should like to do something for your mother, if you'll
allow me.

LEMMY. Oh! I'll allow yer. But I dunno wot she'll sy.

LORD W. I can see she's a fine independent old lady! But suppose
you were to pay her ten bob a week, and keep my name out of it?

LEMMY. Well, that's one wy o' YOU doin' somefink, 'yn't it?

LORD W. I giving you the money, of course.

PRESS. [Writing] "Lord William, with kingly generosity----"

LEMMY. [Drawing attention to THE PRESS with his thumb] I sy--
I daon't mind, meself--if you daon't----

LORD W. He won't write anything to annoy me.

PRESS. This is the big thing, Lord William; it'll get the public
bang in the throat.

LEMMY. [Confidentially] Bit dyngerous, 'yn't it? trustin' the
Press? Their right 'ands never knows wot their left 'ands is
writin'. [To THE PRESS] 'Yn't that true, speakin' as a man?

PRESS. Mr. Lemmy, even the Press is capable of gratitude.

LEMMY. Is it? I should ha' thought it was too important for a
little thing like that. [To LORD WILLIAM] But ye're quite right; we
couldn't do wivaht the Press--there wouldn't be no distress, no
coffin, no revolution--'cos nobody'd know nuffin' abaht it. Why!
There wouldn't be no life at all on Earf in these dyes, wivaht the
Press! It's them wot says: "Let there be Light--an' there is Light."

LORD W. Umm! That's rather a new