mr. george booth. My dear boy, the country'd never stand it. No Englishman—
major booth voysey. [dropping the phrase heavily upon the poor old gentleman.] I beg your pardon. If we . . the Army . . say to the country . . Upon our honour conscription is necessary for your safety . . what answer has the country? What? [he pauses defiantly.] There you are . . none!
tregoning. Booth will imagine because one doesn't argue that one has nothing to say. You ask the country.
major booth voysey. Perhaps I will. Perhaps I'll chuck the Service and go into the House. [then falling into the sing song of a favourite phrase.] I'm not a conceited man . . but I believe that if I speak out upon a subject I understand and only upon that subject the House will listen . . and if others followed my example we should be a far more business-like and go-ahead community.
He pauses for breath and mr. booth seizes the opportunity.
mr. george booth. If you think the gentlemen of England will allow themselves to be herded with a lot of low fellers and made to carry guns—!
major booth voysey. [obliterating him once more.] Just one moment. Have you thought of the physical improvement which conscription would bring about in the manhood of the country? What England wants is Chest! [he generously inflates his own.] Chest and Discipline. I don't care how it's obtained. Why, we suffer from a lack of it in our homes—
mr. voysey. [with the crack of a nut.] Your godson talks a deal, don't he? You know, when Booth gets into a club, he gets on the committee . . gets on any committee to enquire into anything . . and then goes on at 'em just like this. Don't you, Booth?
booth knuckles under easily enough to his father's sarcasm.