JAMES (starting at the word "revolver"). Sell your revolver, eh?

PHILIP (surprised). Well, I don't want it now, do I?

JAMES. No. ... Oh no. ... Oh, most certainly not, I should say. Oh,
I can't see why you should want it at all. (With an uneasy laugh)
You're in England now. No need for revolvers here--eh?

PHILIP (staring at him). Well, no, I hope not.

JAMES (hastily). Quite so. Well now, Philip, what next? We must
find a profession for you.

PHILIP (yawning). I suppose so. I haven't really thought about it
much.

JAMES. You never wanted to be an architect?

PHILIP (surprised). Architect? (JAMES rubs his head and wonders
what made him think of architect.)

JAMES. Or anything like that.

PHILIP. It's a bit late, isn't it?

JAMES. Well, if you're four years behind, so is everybody else. (He
feels vaguely that he has heard this argument before.)

PHILIP (smiling): To tell the truth, I don't feel I mind much