tregoning. Never deliver goods to the Church on credit.
mr. colpus. Eh? [tregoning knows he is a little hard of hearing.]
mr. voysey. Well, as it was my wish that my son should do the design, I suppose in the end I shall have to send you a cheque.
major booth voysey. Anonymously.
mr. colpus. Oh, that would be—
mr. voysey. No, why should I? Here, George Booth, you shall halve it with me.
mr. george booth. I'm damned if I do.
mr. colpus. [proceeding, conveniently deaf.] You remember that at the meeting we had of the parents and friends to decide on the positions of the names of the poor fellows and the regiments and coats of arms and so on . . when Hugh said so violently that he disapproved of the war and made all those remarks about land-lords and Bibles and said he thought of putting in a figure of Britannia blushing for shame or something . . I'm beginning to fear that may have created a bad impression.
major booth voysey. Why should they mind . . what on earth does Hugh know about war? He couldn't tell a battery horse from a bandsman. I don't pretend to criticise art. I think the window'd be very pretty if it wasn't so broken up into bits.
mr. george booth. [fortified by his "damned" and his last glass of port.] These young men are so ready with their disapproval. Criticism starts in the cradle nowadays. When I was young, people weren't always questioning this and questioning that.