Well, the bonfire's ready.
Nothing lacking now except the match.
GROSVENOR
[_Striding up and down._
That's all very well, Mr. Pollen. But suppose the King over there backs
down?
POLLEN
He won't. The people won't let him.
CONROY
_His_ people? They don't want war.
POLLEN
Not _his_ people.
[_Pointing._
Ours. I tell you, they've smelt blood.
[_From a distance, faintly, but growing louder, boys are heard calling,
"Extra! Extra!"_
GROSVENOR
[_Excitedly._
Extra! I wonder--
CONROY
[_Going to the balcony, and calling down._
Here, boy!
POLLEN
[_Laughing softly._
There you go.
[_He presses a bell-button on the wall, bends over the writing-desk and
writes a line which he encloses in an envelope._
You're easy. And there are a hundred million like you. When it comes to
war, reason goes to sleep. You both of you knew perfectly well that I
had absolutely no later news than you, but you let yourself be
hypnotized like children. I can do anything I want with you.
[_Enter_ PAGE.
PAGE
Ring, sir?
POLLEN
Take this to the news-stand in the hall.
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