LADY BRITOMART [vehemently] I did, Charles. Adolphus's recollection is perfectly correct. It is most important that you should be good; and I do beg you for once not to pair off into opposite corners and giggle and whisper while I am speaking to your father. BARBARA. All right, mother. We'll do you credit. LADY BRITOMART. Remember, Charles, that Sarah will want to feel proud of you instead of ashamed of you. LOMAX. Oh I say! There's nothing to be exactly proud of, don't you know. LADY BRITOMART. Well, try and look as if there was. Morrison, pale and dismayed, breaks into the room in unconcealed disorder. MORRISON. Might I speak a word to you, my lady? LADY BRITOMART. Nonsense! Show him up. MORRISON. Yes, my lady. [He goes]. LOMAX. Does Morrison know who he is? LADY BRITOMART. Of course. Morrison has always been with us. LOMAX. It must be a regular corker for him, don't you know. LADY BRITOMART. Is this a moment to get on my nerves, Charles, with your outrageous expressions? LOMAX. But this is something out of the ordinary, really-- MORRISON [at the door] The--er--Mr Undershaft. [He retreats in confusion]. Andrew Undershaft comes in. All rise. Lady Britomart meets him in the middle of the room behind the settee. Andrew is, on the surface, a stoutish, easygoing elderly man, with kindly patient manners, and an engaging simplicity of character. But he has a watchful, deliberate, waiting, listening face, and formidable reserves of power, both bodily and mental, in his capacious chest and long head. His gentleness is partly that of a strong man who has learnt by experience that his natural grip hurts ordinary people unless he handles them very carefully, and partly the mellowness of age and success. He is also a little shy in his present very delicate situation. LADY BRITOMART. Good evening, Andrew. UNDERSHAFT. How d'ye do, my dear. LADY BRITOMART. You look a good deal older. UNDERSHAFT [apologetically] I AM somewhat older. [With a touch of courtship] Time has stood still with you. LADY BRITOMART [promptly] Rubbish! This is your family. UNDERSHAFT [surprised] Is it so large? I am sorry to say my memory is failing very badly in some things. [He offers his hand with paternal kindness to Lomax]. LOMAX [jerkily shaking his hand] Ahdedoo. UNDERSHAFT. I can see you are my eldest. I am very glad to meet you again, my boy. LOMAX [remonstrating] No but look here don't you know--[Overcome] Oh I say! LADY BRITOMART [recovering from momentary speechlessness] Andrew: do you mean to say that you don't remember how many children you have? UNDERSHAFT. Well, I am afraid I--. They have grown so much--er. Am I making any ridiculous mistake? I may as well confess: I recollect only one son. But so many things have happened since, of course--er-- LADY BRITOMART [decisively] Andrew: you are talking nonsense. Of course you have only one son. UNDERSHAFT. Perhaps you will be good enough to introduce me, my dear.