beatrice. I'm sorry, Mother.
But without waiting to be answered the old lady has sailed out of the room. beatrice, edward, and alice are attuned to each other enough to be able to talk with ease.
beatrice. Hugh is right about his family. It'll never make any new life for itself.
edward. There are Booth's children.
beatrice. Poor little devils!
alice. [judicially.] Emily is an excellent mother.
beatrice. Yes . . they'll grow up good men and women. And one will go into the Army and one into the Navy and one into the Church . . and perhaps one to the Devil and the Colonies. They'll serve their country and govern it and help to keep it like themselves . . dull and respectable . . hopelessly middle-class. [she puts down her work now and elevates an oratorical fist.] Genius and Poverty may exist in England, if they'll hide their heads. For show days we've our aristocracy. But never let us forget, gentlemen, that it is the plain solid middle-class man who has made us . . what we are.
edward. [in sympathetic derision.] Hear hear . . ! and cries of bravo!
beatrice. Now, that is out of my book . . the next one. [she takes up her work again.] You know, Edward . . without wishing to open up Painful Streets . . however scandalous it has been, your father left you a man's work to do.