Mrs. Farrant. Mr. Blackborough and his patent turbines and his gas engines and what not are the motive power of our party nowadays, Fanny.
Frances Trebell. Yes, you claim to be steering plutocracy. Do you never wonder if it isn't steering you?
Mrs. O'Connell, growing restless, has wandered round the room picking at the books in their cases.
Amy O'Connell. I always like your books, Julia. It's an intellectual distinction to know someone who has read them.
Mrs. Farrant. That's the Communion I choose.
Frances Trebell. Aristocrat ... fastidious aristocrat.
Mrs. Farrant. No, now. Learning's a great leveller.
Frances Trebell. But Julia ... books are quite unreal. D'you think life is a bit like them?
Mrs. Farrant. They bring me into touch with ... Oh, there's nothing more deadening than to be boxed into a set in Society! Speak to a woman outside it ... she doesn't understand your language.
Frances Trebell. And do you think by prattling Hegel with Gilbert Wedgecroft when he comes to physic you—