“La Propriété c’est le vol,” murmurs Cicely Seymour “La propriété d’autrui, oui; mais pas la mienne!”
“If there’s no flimsy anywhere,” asks Lord Marlow, “who’ll breed racers?”
“Who’ll buy Comet clarets?”
“Who’ll employ cooks?”
“Who’ll keep up shootin’?”
“Who’ll build Valkyries?”
“Who’ll go by the Flying Dutchman?”
“Who’ll dance cotillons?”
Bertram replies with dignity: “My friends, these are mere frivolous jests on your part. When the entire structure of our rotten and debased society shall have been shattered there will of course be no place in a regenerate world for these mere foolish egotisms.”
“Foolish egotisms!” echoes Lord Southwold. “Oh, Lord! A good glass of wine a foolish egotism?”