STEPHEN. Well, I am rather busy—er— [Magnanimously] Oh well, yes: I'll come. That is, if there is room for me.
UNDERSHAFT. I can take two with me in a little motor I am experimenting with for field use. You won't mind its being rather unfashionable. It's not painted yet; but it's bullet proof.
LOMAX [appalled at the prospect of confronting Wilton Crescent in an unpainted motor] Oh I say!
SARAH. The carriage for me, thank you. Barbara doesn't mind what she's seen in.
LOMAX. I say, Dolly old chap: do you really mind the car being a guy? Because of course if you do I'll go in it. Still—
CUSINS. I prefer it.
LOMAX. Thanks awfully, old man. Come, Sarah. [He hurries out to secure his seat in the carriage. Sarah follows him].
CUSINS. [moodily walking across to Lady Britomart's writing table] Why are we two coming to this Works Department of Hell? that is what I ask myself.
BARBARA. I have always thought of it as a sort of pit where lost creatures with blackened faces stirred up smoky fires and were driven and tormented by my father. Is it like that, dad?
UNDERSHAFT [scandalized] My dear! It is a spotlessly clean and beautiful hillside town.