Lady Cant. Thank you. I think I will wait until I am reduced to one and ninepence.
Clerk. Precisely. What do you say to Seven 'Undred Side-splitters for Sixpence? 'Ighly yumorous, I assure you.
Lady Cant. Are these times to split our sides, with so many serious social problems pressing for solution? You are presumably not without intelligence; do you never reflect upon the responsibility you incur in assisting to circulate trivial and frivolous trash of this sort?
Clerk (dubiously). Well, I can't say as I do, particular, Ma'am. I'm paid to sell the books—I don't select 'em.
Lady Cant. That is no excuse for you—you ought to exercise some discrimination on your own account, instead of pressing people to buy what can do them no possible good. You can give me a Society Snippets.
Lady Maisie. Mamma! A penny paper that says such rude things about the Royal Family!
Lady Cant. It's always instructive to know what these creatures are saying about one, my dear, and it's astonishing how they manage to find out the things they do. Ah, here's Gravener coming back. He's got us a carriage, and we'd better get in.
[She and her daughter enter a first-class compartment; Undershell and Drysdale return.
Drys. (to Undershell). Well, I don't see now where the insolence comes in. These people have invited you to stay with them——
Und. But why? Not because they appreciate my work—which they probably only half understand—but out of mere idle curiosity to see what manner of strange beast a Poet may be! And I don't know this Lady Culverin—never met her in my life! What the deuce does she mean by sending me an invitation? Why should these smart women suppose that they are entitled to send for a Man of Genius, as if he was their lackey? Answer me that!