EMILY (unconvinced). Well, I think that Philip's four years out
there have made him more of a man; he doesn't seem somehow like a
boy who can be told what to do. I'm sure they've taught him
something.

JAMES. I've no doubt that they've taught him something about--er--
bombs and--er--which end a revolver goes off, and how to form
fours. But I don't see that that sort of thing helps him to decide
upon the most suitable career for a young man in after-war
conditions.

EMILY. Well, I can only say you'll find him different.

JAMES. I didn't notice any particular difference last night.

EMILY. I think you'll find him rather more--I can't quite think of
the word, but Mrs. Higgins could tell you what I mean.

JAMES. Of course, if he likes to earn his living any other way, he
may; but I don t see how he proposes to do it so long as I hold
the purse-strings. (Looking at his watch) Perhaps you'd better tell
him that I cannot wait any longer.

(EMILY opens the door leading into the dining-room and talks
through it to PHILIP.)

EMILY. Philip, your uncle is waiting to see you before he goes to
the office. Will you be long, dear?

PHILIP (from the dining-room). Is he in a hurry?