_Bully_. It's close on ten. (_Hopefully_) Have ye been at a night-club?

_David_. I were kept late at evenin' class.

_Bully_. Brr! (_In an ecstasy of fury_) See ye belong to a night-club
before the week's out. (_He does his glare again._) I'll establish
frivolity and a spirit of modernism in this household, if I have to take
the stick to every member of it.

_Janet_ (_springing up suddenly_). Feyther! (_A pause; she collects herself
for her big effort._) Feyther, I'm one o' they dour silent girls to whom
expression comes hardly, but (_with veiled menace_) when it does come it
means fifteen minutes' unrelieved monologue. So tak' heed. We're not
wanting these changes, and to be up-to-date, and all that. I'm happy as I
am, and so's David. He has his hope of the council, and the bribes and them
things. And I've my guild and my friends, with their odd clothes and
variable accents. That's the life I want, and I won't change it. I won't--

[_Quite suddenly she breaks from them and rushes out of the room,
slamming the door after her. The others remain silent, apparently from
emotion, but really to see if there will be any applause. When this is
settled in the negative old_ Bullyum _speaks again._

_Bully_, (_slowly and as if with an immense effort_). Why couldn't she
wait?... She might have known we wouldn't decide anything--that we never do
decide anything--because it would be too much like a rounded climax. Well
(_rousing himself_), let's put out the gas. [_He moves heavily towards the
conspicuous bracket._