Bully. Great Powers, a repertory dramatist! And I've insulted him!—me, a town councillor. (He has grown white to the lips; this is not easy, but can be managed.) There'll be a play about me—about us, this house—everything. But (passionately) I'll thwart him yet. Janet, my girl, do thee write at once and say that I withdraw my opposition to the engagement.
Janet (dully). But I don't want the man.
Bully, (hectoring). Am I your feyther or am I not? I tell you you shall marry him. And what's more, he shan't find us what he looks for. No, no (with rising agitation), he thinks that because I'm a town councillor I'm to be made game of, does he? Well, I'll learn him different! (Glaring round) This room—it's got to be changed. And you (to Janet) put on a short frock, something lively and up-to-date—d' ye hear? At once!
Mrs. B. (as Janet only stares without moving). Well, I never.
Bully. And let's have some books about the place—BERNARD SHAW—
Janet (icily). He's a back number now, feyther.
Bully. Well, whoever's the latest. Then you must go to plays and dances, lots of dances. (Struck with an idea) Where's David?
[As he speaks David enters, a tall ungainly youth with spectacles and a projecting brow.
David. Here I yam, feyther.
Bully. It's close on ten. (Hopefully) Have ye been at a night-club?