You see, Lord Horsham, I am not a
party man, only a little less enthusiastic for the opposite cries than for
his own. You appealed very strangely to my feelings of patriotism for this
country; but you see even my own is--in the twentieth century--foreign to
me. From my point of view neither Mr. Trebell, nor you, nor the men you have
just defeated, nor any discoverable man or body of men will make laws which
matter ... or differ in the slightest. You are all part of your age and you
all voice--though in separate keys, or even tunes they may be--only the
greed and follies of your age. That you should do this and nothing more is,
of course, the democratic ideal. You will forgive my thinking tenderly of
the statesmanship of the first Edward.
_The library door opens and_ RUSSELL BLACKBOROUGH _comes in. He has on
evening clothes, complicated by a long silk comforter and the motoring
cap which he carries._
HORSHAM. You know Russell Blackborough.
O'CONNELL. I think not.
BLACKBOROUGH. How d'you do?
O'CONNELL _having bowed_, BLACKBOROUGH _having nodded, the two men sit
down_, BLACKBOROUGH _with an air of great attention_, O'CONNELL _to
continue his interrupted speech._
O'CONNELL. And you are as far from me in your code of personal morals as in
your politics. In neither do you seem to realise that such a thing as
passion can exist.
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