shall never
ride really well because I didn't begin as a child. There are only
two classes in good society in England: the equestrian classes and the
neurotic classes. It isn't mere convention: everybody can see that the
people who hunt are the right people and the people who don't are the
wrong ones.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. There is some truth in this. My ship made a man of me;
and a ship is the horse of the sea.

LADY UTTERWORD. Exactly how Hastings explained your being a gentleman.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Not bad for a numskull. Bring the man here with you
next time: I must talk to him.

LADY UTTERWORD. Why is Randall such an obvious rotter? He is well bred;
he has been at a public school and a university; he has been in the
Foreign Office; he knows the best people and has lived all his life
among them. Why is he so unsatisfactory, so contemptible? Why can't he
get a valet to stay with him longer than a few months? Just because he
is too lazy and pleasure-loving to hunt and shoot. He strums the piano,
and sketches, and runs after married women, and reads literary books and
poems. He actually plays the flute; but I never let him bring it into my
house. If he would only--[she is interrupted by the melancholy strains
of a flute coming from an open window above. She raises herself
indignantly in the hammock]. Randall, you have not gone to bed. Have
you been listening? [The flute replies pertly]. How vulgar! Go to bed
instantly, Randall: how dare you? [The window is slammed down. She
subsides]. How can anyone care for such a creature!

MRS HUSHABYE. Addy: do you think Ellie ought to marry poor Alfred merely
for his money?

MANGAN [much alarmed]. What's that? Mrs Hushabye, are my affairs to be
discussed like this before everybody?

LADY UTTERWORD. I don't think Randall is listening now.

MANGAN. Everybody is listening. It isn't right.

MRS HUSHABYE. But in the dark, what does it matter? Ellie doesn't mind.
Do you, Ellie?

ELLIE. Not in the least. What is your opinion, Lady Utterword? You have
so much good sense.

MANGAN. But it isn't right. It--[Mrs Hushabye puts her hand on his
mouth]. Oh, very well.

LADY UTTERWORD. How much money have you, Mr. Mangan?

MANGAN. Really--No: I can't stand this.

LADY UTTERWORD. Nonsense, Mr Mangan! It all turns on your income,
doesn't it?

MANGAN. Well, if you come to that, how much money has she?

ELLIE. None.

LADY UTTERWORD. You are answered, Mr Mangan. And now, as you have