LORD W. Well, that's a bit extreme. But I quite sympathise with this chap. Imagine yourself in his shoes. He sees a huge house, all these bottles; us swilling them down; perhaps he's got a starving wife, or consumptive kids.
PRESS. [Writing and murmuring] Um-m! "Kids."
LORD W. He thinks: "But for the grace of God, there swill I. Why should that blighter have everything and I nothing?" and all that.
PRESS. [Writing] "And all that." [Eagerly] Yes?
LORD W. And gradually--you see--this contrast--becomes an obsession with him. "There's got to be an example made," he thinks; and--er--he makes it, don't you know?
PRESS. [Writing] Ye-es? And--when you're the example?
LORD W. Well, you feel a bit blue, of course. But my point is that you quite see it.
PRESS. From the other world. Do you believe in a future life, Lord William? The public took a lot of interest in the question, if you remember, at the time of the war. It might revive at any moment, if there's to be a revolution.
LORD W. The wish is always father to the thought, isn't it?
PRESS. Yes! But--er--doesn't the question of a future life rather bear on your point about kindness? If there isn't one--why be kind?
LORD W. Well, I should say one oughtn't to be kind for any motive--that's self-interest; but just because one feels it, don't you know.
PRESS. [Writing vigorously] That's very new--very new!
LORD W. [Simply] You chaps are wonderful.
PRESS. [Doubtfully] You mean we're--we're----
LORD W. No, really. You have such a d---d hard time. It must be perfectly beastly to interview fellows like me.
PRESS. Oh! Not at all, Lord William. Not at all. I assure you compared with a literary man, it's--it's almost heavenly.
LORD W. You must have a wonderful knowledge of things.
PRESS. [Bridling a little] Well--I shouldn't say that.
LORD W. I don't see how you can avoid it. You turn your hands to everything.
PRESS. [Modestly] Well--yes, Yes.
LORD W. I say: Is there really going to be a revolution, or are you ****** it up, you Press?
PRESS. We don't know. We never know whether we come before the event, or it comes before us.
LORD W. That's--very deep--very dip. D'you mind lending me your note-book a moment. I'd like to stick that down. All right, I'll use the other end. [THE PRESS hands it hypnotically.]
LORD W. [Jotting] Thanks awfully. Now what's your real opinion of the situation?
PRESS. As a man or a Press man?
LORD W. Is there any difference?
PRESS. Is there any connection?
LORD W. Well, as a man.
PRESS. As a man, I think it's rotten.
LORD W. [Jotting] "Rotten." And as a pressman?
PRESS. [Smiling] Prime.
LORD W. What! Like a Stilton cheese. Ha, ha!
[He is about to write.]
PRESS. My stunt, Lord William. You said that.
[He jots it on his cuff.]
LORD W. But look here.! Would you say that a strong press movement would help to quiet the country?
PRESS. Well, as you ask me, Lord William, I'll tell you. No newspapers for a month would do the trick.
LORD W. [Jotting] By Jove! That's brilliant.
PRESS. Yes, but I should starve. [He suddenly looks up, and his eyes, like gimlets, bore their way into LORD WILLIAM'S pleasant, troubled face] Lord William, you could do me a real kindness.
Authorise me to go and interview the fellow who left the bomb here;
I've got his address. I promise you to do it most discreetly. Fact is--well--I'm in low water. Since the war we simply can't get sensation enough for the new taste. Now, if I could have an article headed: "Bombed and Bomber"--sort of double interview, you know, it'd very likely set me on my legs again. [Very earnestly] Look!
[He holds out his frayed wristbands.]