LADY BRITOMART. Charles: if you must drivel, drivel like a grown-up man and not like a schoolboy. LOMAX [out of countenance] Well, drivel is drivel, don't you know, whatever a man's age. LADY BRITOMART. In good society in England, Charles, men drivel at all ages by repeating silly formulas with an air of wisdom. Schoolboys make their own formulas out of slang, like you. When they reach your age, and get political private secretaryships and things of that sort, they drop slang and get their formulas out of The Spectator or The Times. You had better confine yourself to The Times. You will find that there is a certain amount of tosh about The Times; but at least its language is reputable. LOMAX [overwhelmed] You are so awfully strong-minded, Lady Brit-- LADY BRITOMART. Rubbish! [Morrison comes in]. What is it? MORRISON. If you please, my lady, Mr Undershaft has just drove up to the door. LADY BRITOMART. Well, let him in. [Morrison hesitates]. What's the matter with you? MORRISON. Shall I announce him, my lady; or is he at home here, so to speak, my lady? LADY BRITOMART. Announce him. MORRISON. Thank you, my lady. You won't mind my asking, I hope. The occasion is in a manner of speaking new to me. LADY BRITOMART. Quite right. Go and let him in. MORRISON. Thank you, my lady. [He withdraws]. LADY BRITOMART. Children: go and get ready. [Sarah and Barbara go upstairs for their out-of-door wrap]. Charles: go and tell Stephen to come down here in five minutes: you will find him in the drawing room. [Charles goes]. Adolphus: tell them to send round the carriage in about fifteen minutes. [Adolphus goes]. MORRISON [at the door] Mr Undershaft. Undershaft comes in. Morrison goes out. UNDERSHAFT. Alone! How fortunate! LADY BRITOMART [rising] Don't be sentimental, Andrew. Sit down. [She sits on the settee: he sits beside her, on her left. She comes to the point before he has time to breathe]. Sarah must have 800 pounds a year until Charles Lomax comes into his property. Barbara will need more, and need it permanently, because Adolphus hasn't any property. UNDERSHAFT [resignedly] Yes, my dear: I will see to it. Anything else? for yourself, for instance? LADY BRITOMART. I want to talk to you about Stephen. UNDERSHAFT [rather wearily] Don't, my dear. Stephen doesn't interest me. LADY BRITOMART. He does interest me. He is our son. UNDERSHAFT. Do you really think so? He has induced us to bring him into the world; but he chose his parents very incongruously, I think. I see nothing of myself in him, and less of you. LADY BRITOMART. Andrew: Stephen is an excellent son, and a most steady, capable, highminded young man. YOU are simply trying to find an excuse for disinheriting him. UNDERSHAFT. My dear Biddy: the Undershaft tradition disinherits him. It would be dishonest of me to leave the cannon foundry to my son.