THE CLERK. Making small cars.
AUGUSTUS. NEW cars!
THE CLERK. The old cars only do twelve miles to the gallon. Everybody has to have a car that will do thirty-five now.
AUGUSTUS. Can't they take the train?
THE CLERK. There ain't no trains now. They've tore up the rails and sent them to the front.
AUGUSTUS. Psha!
THE CLERK. Well, we have to get about somehow.
AUGUSTUS. This is perfectly monstrous. Not in the least what I intended.
THE CLERK. Hell—
AUGUSTUS. Sir!