EDMUND. Oh, hang your smug imitation democracy! You don't believe that, Austin.
AUSTIN. I always believe in the inevitable.
EDMUND. It's not inevitable, It's incredible. Now, I'll tell you what I'll do, Austin. I'll take Elsie back with me to London and cure her of this infatuation with a jolly good round of the theatres and the shops.
AUSTIN. My dear fellow! The theatres where she'll see nothing but romantic love stories and the shops where she'll go under your nose to buy her trousseau. Try it, Edmund. You'll be astonished at the result.
EDMUND. It seems my métier to be astonished to-day. First I assist at an attempted bribery, and now it seems I'm to see my niece marry the incorruptible footballer.
AUSTIN. You're a bachelor. The modern child surprises you. As a father, I have ceased to be surprised.
EDMUND. As a father your idea of your duty is to stand idle while your daughter makes a sentimental mess of her life. I begin to thank my stars I'm a bachelor. At least I'm not henpecked by a rebellious family.
AUSTIN. There's no rebellion about it, Edmund. I date from the sixties, they from the nineties, and we rub along quite peacefully in mutual toleration of the different attitudes.
EDMUND. Tolerating the difference means that you give in to them every time.
AUSTIN. Not quite.