UNA. An apt pupil, too. Let me teach you then that the ruder you are to a woman, the more she'll hate you—or love you. [She goes up to him and invites him with a gesture.] Sit down.
[GEORGE remains immobile.] The polite are not only bourgeois, they're boring.
GEORGE. When I know I'm right, I stick to it.
UNA. But you must grow tired of standing.
GEORGE. If I did, I'd lose my job.
UNA. You have already. Sit down.
GEORGE [firmly]. After you.
UNA [taking the chair, centre, and sitting on it]. You're splendid. Now!
[GEORGE sits in the offered chair a little stiffly.]
UNA. Isn't that better than ringing up fares?