Brian (R.C.). Well, of course, I know it doesn't amount to much at present, but we shan't starve.
Dinah. Brian got fifty pounds for a picture last March!
George (a little upset by this). Oh! (Recovering gamely.) And how many pictures have you sold since?
Brian (gives a nervous look at Olivia and Dinah, who then sits on settee R.). Well, none, but–
George. None! And I don't wonder. Who the devil is going to buy pictures with triangular clouds and square sheep? (Brian, annoyed, moves up R.C.) And they call that Art nowadays! Good God, man (moving up to the windows), go outside and look at the clouds!
Olivia (busy stitching rings on curtains). If he draws round clouds in future, George, will you let him marry Dinah?
(George looks round, annoyed. Brian is hopeful and comes down towards Dinah.)
George (upset by this, coming down to head of L.C. table). What–what? Yes, of course, you would be on his side–all this Futuristic nonsense. (Olivia commences to sew.) I'm just taking these clouds as an example. (Crossing to Brian.) I suppose I can see as well as any man in the county, and I say that clouds aren't triangular.
Brian (ingratiatingly). After all, sir, at my age one is naturally experimenting, and trying to find one's (with a laugh)–well, it sounds priggish, but one's medium of expression. I shall find out what I want to do directly, but I think I shall always be able to earn enough to live on. Well, I have for the last three years.
George. I see, and now you want to experiment with a wife–