HORSHAM. Shall we....
O'CONNELL. [_Measuring_ TREBELL _with his eyes._] And by which shall I help
you to a solution ... telling lies or the truth to-morrow?
TREBELL. [_Roughly, almost insolently._] If you want my advice ... I should
do the thing that comes more easily to you, or that will content you most.
If you haven't yet made up your mind as to the relative importance of my
work and your conscience, it's too late to begin now. Nothing you may do can
affect me.
HORSHAM. _[fluttering fearfully into this strange dispute._] O'Connell ...
if you and I were to join Wedgecroft....
O'CONNELL. You value your work more than anything else in the world?
TREBELL. Have I anything else in the world?
O'CONNELL. Have you not? [_With grim ambiguity._] Then I am sorry for you,
Mr. Trebell. [_Having said all he had to say, he notices_ HORSHAM.] Yes,
Lord Horsham, by all means....
_Then_ HORSHAM _opens the library door and sees him safely through. He
passes_ TREBELL _without any salutation, nor does_ TREBELL _turn after
him; but when_ HORSHAM _also is in the library and the door is closed,
comments viciously._
TREBELL. The man's a sentimentalist ... like all men who live alone or shut
away. [_Then surveying his three glum companions, bursts out._] Well...? We
can stop thinking of this dead woman, can't we? It's a waste of time.
FARRANT. Trebell, what did you want to come here for?
TREBELL. Because you thought I wouldn't. I knew you'd be sitting round,
incompetent with distress, calculating to a nicety the force of a
scandal....
BLACKBOROUGH. [_With the firmest of touches._] Horsham has called some of us
here to discuss the situation. I am considering my opinion.
TREBELL. You are not, Blackborough. You haven't recovered yet from the shock
of your manly feelings. Oh, cheer up. You know we're an adulterous and
sterile generation. Why should you cry out at a proof now and then of what's
always in the hearts of most of us?
FARRANT. [_Plaintively._] Now, for God's sake, Trebell ... O'Connell has
been going on like that.
TREBELL. Well then ... think of what matters.
BLACKBOROUGH. Of you and your reputation in fact.
FARRANT. [_Kindly._] Why do you pretend to be callous?
_He strokes_ TREBELL'S _shoulder, who shakes him off impatiently._
TREBELL. Do you all mean to out-face the British Lion with me after
to-morrow ... dare to be Daniels?
BLACKBOROUGH. Bravado won't carry this off.
TREBELL. Blackborough ... it would immortalize you. I'll stand up in my
place in the House of Commons and tell everything that has befallen soberly
and seriously. Why should I flinch?