ooks at his watch, and begins hurriedly searching the bins,
bending down and going on his knees. THE PRESS reverses the
notebook again and sketches him.]

PRESS. [To himself] Ah! That'll do. "Lord William examines the
foundations of his house."

[A voice calls "Bill!" THE PRESS snaps the note-book to, and
looks up. There, where the "communication trench" runs in,
stands a tall and elegant woman in the extreme of evening
dress.]

[With presence of mind] Lady William? You'll find Lord William
--Oh! Have you a photograph of him?

LADY W. Not on me.

PRESS. [Eyeing her] Er--no--I suppose not--no. Excuse me! [He
sidles past her and is gone.]

LADY W. [With lifted eyebrows] Bill!

LORD W. [Emerging, dusting his knees] Hallo, Nell! I was just
making sure there wasn't another bomb.

LADY W. Yes; that's why I came dawn: Who was that person?

LORD W. Press.

LADY W. He looked awfully yellow. I hope you haven't been giving
yourself away.

LORD W. [Dubiously] Well, I don't know. They're like corkscrews.

LADY W. What did he ask you?

LORD W. What didn't he?

LADY W. Well, what did you tell him?

LORD W. That I'd been baptised--but he promised not to put it down.

LADY W. Bill, you are absurd.

[She gives a light tittle laugh.]

LORD W. I don't remember anything else, except that it was quite
natural we should be bombed, don't you know.

LADY W. Why, what harm have we done?

LORD W. Been born, my dear. [Suddenly serious] I say, Nell, how am
I to tell what this fellow felt when he left that bomb here?

LADY W. Why do you want to?

LORD W. Out there one used to know what one's men felt.

LADY W. [Staring] My dear boy, I really don't think you ought to
see the Press; it always upsets you.

LORD W. Well! Why should you and I be going to eat ourselves silly
to improve the condition of the sweated, when----

LADY W. [Calmly] When they're going to "improve" ours, if we don't
look out. We've got to get in first, Bill.

LORD W. [Gloomily] I know. It's all fear. That's it! Here we
are, and here we shall stay--as if there'd never been a war.

LADY W. Well, thank heaven there's no "front" to a revolution. You
and I can go to glory together this time. Compact! Anything that's
on, I'm to abate in.

LORD W. Well, in reason.

LADY W. No, in rhyme, too.

LORD W. I say, your dress!

LADY W. Yes, Poulder tried to