PHILIP.

It shows the bishop and the judge playing to the gallery, the
politician adopting the methods of the cheap-jack, the duchess vying
with the puffing draper; it shows how even true genius submits itself
to conditions that are accepted and excused as "modern," and is found
elbowing and pushing in the hurly-burly. It shows how the ordinary
decencies of life are sacrificed to the paragraphist, the interviewer,
and the ghoul with the camera; how the home is stripped of its
sanctity, blessed charity made a vehicle for display, the very
grave-yard transformed into a parade ground; while the outsider looks
on with a sinking of the vitals because the drumstick is beyond his
reach and the bom-bom-bom is not for him! It shows----! [_Checking
himself and leaving the arm-chair with a short laugh._] Oh, well,
that's the setting of my story, Sir Randle! I won't inflict the details
upon you.

SIR RANDLE.

Er--h'm--[_expansively_] an excellent theme, Mr. Mackworth; a most
promising theme! [_To_ LADY FILSON.] Eh, Winifred?

LADY FILSON.

[_Politely._] Excellent; quite, quite excellent!

PHILIP.

[_Bowing to_ LADY FILSON _and going to_ OTTOLINE.] Thank you.

OTTOLINE.

[_To_ PHILIP, _glowingly_.] Splendid! [_Laying her hand upon his arm._]
You have purged your disgrace. [_Softly._] You may come and see me
to-morrow.

PHILIP.

[_To_ OTTOLINE.] Ha, ha----!

SIR RANDLE.

[_In response to a final bow from_ PHILIP.] Good-bye.

LADY FILSON.

_Good_-bye.

[OTTOLINE _opens the glazed door and_ PHILIP _follows
her into the hall. Immediately the door is shut_, LADY
FILSON _hurries to_ SIR RANDLE.

SIR RANDLE.

[_In high spirits._] Winnie----!

LADY FILSON.

_That_ will never be a popular success, Randle!

SIR RANDLE.

Never. An offensive book----!

LADY FILSON.

Ho, ho, ho, ho----!

SIR RANDLE.

A grossly offensive book!

LADY FILSON.

[_Anxiously_.] He--he'll keep his word----?

SIR RANDLE.

To join us in persuading her to drop him--