Broadbent.  Yes, of course:  call on all their wives.  We must get a copy of the register and a supply of canvassing cards.  No use calling on people who haven’t votes.  You’ll be a great success as a canvasser, Nora:  they call you the heiress; and they’ll be flattered no end by your calling, especially as you’ve never cheapened yourself by speaking to them before—­have you?

Nora [indignantly].  Not likely, indeed.

Broadbent.  Well, we mustn’t be stiff and stand-off, you know.  We must be thoroughly democratic, and patronize everybody without distinction of class.  I tell you I’m a jolly lucky man, Nora Cryna.  I get engaged to the most delightful woman in Ireland; and it turns out that I couldn’t have done a smarter stroke of electioneering.

Nora.  An would you let me demean meself like that, just to get yourself into parliament?

Broadbent [buoyantly].  Aha!  Wait till you find out what an exciting game electioneering is:  you’ll be mad to get me in.  Besides, you’d like people to say that Tom Broadbent’s wife had been the making of him—­that she got him into parliament—­into the Cabinet, perhaps, eh?

Nora.  God knows I don’t grudge you me money!  But to lower meself to the level of common people

Broadbent.  To a member’s wife, Nora, nobody is common provided he’s on the register.  Come, my dear! it’s all right:  do you think I’d let you do it if it wasn’t?  The best people do it.  Everybody does it.

Nora [who has been biting her lip and looking over the hill, disconsolate and unconvinced].  Well, praps you know best what they do in England.  They must have very little respect for themselves.  I think I’ll go in now.  I see Larry and Mr Keegan coming up the hill; and I’m not fit to talk to them.

Broadbent.  Just wait and say something nice to Keegan.  They tell me he controls nearly as many votes as Father Dempsey himself.

Nora.  You little know Peter Keegan.  He’d see through me as if I was a pane o glass.

Broadbent.  Oh, he won’t like it any the less for that.  What really flatters a man is that you think him worth flattering.  Not that I would flatter any man:  don’t think that.  I’ll just go and meet him. [He goes down the hill with the eager forward look of a man about to greet a valued acquaintance.  Nora dries her eyes, and turns to go as Larry strolls up the hill to her].

Larry.  Nora. [She turns and looks at him hardly, without a word.  He continues anxiously, in his most conciliatory tone].  When I left you that time, I was just as wretched as you.  I didn’t rightly know what I wanted to say; and my tongue kept clacking to cover the loss I was at.  Well, I’ve been thinking ever since; and now I know what I ought to have said.  I’ve come back to say it.

Nora.  You’ve come too late, then.  You thought eighteen years was not long enough, and that you might keep me waiting a day longer.  Well, you were mistaken.  I’m engaged to your friend Mr Broadbent; and I’m done with you.