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soft answer that turneth away wrath but the inconsequent one that
shelves it。
〃Let's go and dress for dinner。〃
The meal； like so many that Francesca and Comus had eaten in each
other's company of late； was a silent one。 Now that the full
bearings of the disaster had been discussed in all its aspects
there was nothing more to be said。 Any attempt at ignoring the
situation； and passing on to less controversial topics would have
been a mockery and pretence which neither of them would have
troubled to sustain。 So the meal went forward with its dragged…out
dreary intimacy of two people who were separated by a gulf of
bitterness； and whose hearts were hard with resentment against one
another。
Francesca felt a sense of relief when she was able to give the maid
the order to serve her coffee upstairs。 Comus had a sullen scowl
on his face； but he looked up as she rose to leave the room； and
gave his half…mocking little laugh。
〃You needn't look so tragic；〃 he said； 〃You're going to have your
own way。 I'll go out to that West African hole。〃
CHAPTER XIII
COMUS found his way to his seat in the stalls of the Straw Exchange
Theatre and turned to watch the stream of distinguished and
distinguishable people who made their appearance as a matter of
course at a First Night in the height of the Season。 Pit and
gallery were already packed with a throng； tense； expectant and
alert； that waited for the rise of the curtain with the eager
patience of a terrier watching a dilatory human prepare for outdoor
exercises。 Stalls and boxes filled slowly and hesitatingly with a
crowd whose component units seemed for the most part to recognise
the probability that they were quite as interesting as any play
they were likely to see。 Those who bore no particular face…value
themselves derived a certain amount of social dignity from the near
neighbourhood of obvious notabilities； if one could not obtain
recognition oneself there was some vague pleasure in being able to
recognise notoriety at intimately close quarters。
〃Who is that woman with the auburn hair and a rather effective
belligerent gleam in her eyes？〃 asked a man sitting just behind
Comus； 〃she looks as if she might have created the world in six
days and destroyed it on the seventh。〃
〃I forget her name；〃 said his neighbour； 〃she writes。 She's the
author of that book； 'The Woman who wished it was Wednesday；' you
know。 It used to be the convention that women writers should be
plain and dowdy； now we have gone to the other extreme and build
them on extravagantly decorative lines。〃
A buzz of recognition came from the front rows of the pit； together
with a craning of necks on the part of those in less favoured
seats。 It heralded the arrival of Sherard Blaw； the dramatist who
had discovered himself； and who had given so ungrudgingly of his
discovery to the world。 Lady Caroline； who was already directing
little conversational onslaughts from her box； gazed gently for a
moment at the new arrival； and then turned to the silver…haired
Archdeacon sitting beside her。
〃They say the poor man is haunted by the fear that he will die
during a general election； and that his obituary notices will be
seriously curtailed by the space taken up by the election results。
The curse of our party system； from his point of view； is that it
takes up so much room in the press。〃
The Archdeacon smiled indulgently。 As a man he was so exquisitely
worldly that he fully merited the name of the Heavenly Worldling
bestowed on him by an admiring duchess； and withal his texture was
shot with a pattern of such genuine saintliness that one felt that
whoever else might hold the keys of Paradise he； at least；
possessed a private latchkey to that abode。
〃Is it not significant of the altered grouping of things；〃 he
observed； 〃that the Church； as represented by me； sympathises with
the message of Sherard Blaw； while neither the man nor his message
find acceptance with unbelievers like you； Lady Caroline。〃
Lady Caroline blinked her eyes。 〃My dear Archdeacon；〃 she said；
〃no one can be an unbeliever nowadays。 The Christian Apologists
have left one nothing to disbelieve。〃
The Archdeacon rose with a delighted chuckle。 〃I must go and tell
that to De la Poulett；〃 he said； indicating a clerical figure
sitting in the third row of the stalls； 〃he spends his life
explaining from his pulpit that the glory of Christianity consists
in the fact that though it is not true it has been found necessary
to invent it。〃
The door of the box opened and Courtenay Youghal entered； bringing
with him subtle suggestion of chaminade and an atmosphere of
political tension。 The Government had fallen out of the good
graces of a section of its supporters； and those who were not in
the know were busy predicting a serious crisis over a forthcoming
division in the Committee stage of an important Bill。 This was
Saturday night； and unless some successful cajolery were effected
between now and Monday afternoon； Ministers would be； seemingly； in
danger of defeat。
〃Ah； here is Youghal；〃 said the Archdeacon； 〃he will be able to
tell us what is going to happen in the next forty…eight hours。 I
hear the Prime Minister says it is a matter of conscience； and they
will stand or fall by it。〃
His hopes and sympathies were notoriously on the Ministerial side。
Youghal greeted Lady Caroline and subsided gracefully into a chair
well in the front of the box。 A buzz of recognition rippled slowly
across the house。
〃For the Government to fall on a matter of conscience；〃 he said；
〃would be like a man cutting himself with a safety razor。〃
Lady Caroline purred a gentle approval。
〃I'm afraid it's true； Archdeacon；〃 she said。
No one can effectively defend a Government when it's been in office
several years。 The Archdeacon took refuge in light skirmishing。
〃I believe Lady Caroline sees the makings of a great Socialist
statesman in you； Youghal；〃 he observed。
〃Great Socialist statesmen aren't made； they're stillborn；〃 replied
Youghal。
〃What is the play about to…night？〃 asked a pale young woman who had
taken no part in the talk。
〃I don't know；〃 said Lady Caroline； 〃but I hope it's dull。 If
there is any brilliant conversation in it I shall burst into
tears。〃
In the front row of the upper circle a woman with a restless
starling…voice was discussing the work of a temporarily fashionable
composer； chiefly in relation to her own emotions； which she seemed
to think might prove generally interesting to those around her。
〃Whenever I hear his music I feel that I want to go up into a
mountain and pray。 Can you understand that feeling？〃
The girl to whom she was unburdening herself shook her head。
〃You see； I've heard his music chiefly in Switzerland； an