L. ANNE. What is a little blighter? Can I see?
JAMES. He's just gone.
L. ANNE. [Straying] Oh! . . . James, are these really the
foundations?
JAMES. You might 'arf say so. There's a lot under a woppin' big
house like this; you can't hardly get to the bottom of it.
L. ANNE. Everything's built on something, isn't it? And what's THAT
built on?
JAMES. Ask another.
L. ANNE. If you wanted to blow it up, though, you'd have to begin
from here, wouldn't you?
JAMES. Who'd want to blow it up?
L. ANNE. It would make a mess in Park Lane.
JAMES. I've seen a lot bigger messes than this'd make, out in the
war.
L. ANNE. Oh! but that's years ago! Was it like this in the
trenches, James?
JAMES. [Grimly] Ah! 'Cept that you couldn't lay your 'and on a
bottle o' port when you wanted one.
L. ANNE. Do you, when you want it, here?
JAMES. [On guard] I only suggest it's possible.
L. ANNE. Perhaps Poulder does.
JAMES. [Icily] I say nothin' about that.
L. ANNE. Oh! Do say something!
JAMES. I'm ashamed of you, Miss Anne, pumpin' me!
L. ANNE. [Reproachfully] I'm not pumpin'! I only want to make
Poulder jump when I ask him.
JAMES. [Grinning] Try it on your own responsibility, then; don't
bring me in!
L. ANNE. [Switching off] James, do you think there's going to be a
bloody revolution?
JAMES. [Shocked] I shouldn't use that word, at your age.
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