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Page 50
Stephen, who is quite close to it, looks at it rather scaredly,
and moves away quickly to the cannon. At the same moment the door
of the shed is thrown abruptly open; and a foreman in overalls
and list slippers comes out on the little landing and holds the
door open for Lomax, who appears in the doorway.
LOMAX [with studied coolness] My good fellow: you needn't get
into a state of nerves. Nothing's going to happen to you; and I
suppose it wouldn't be the end of the world if anything did. A
little bit of British pluck is what you want, old chap. [He
descends and strolls across to Sarah].
UNDERSHAFT [to the foreman] Anything wrong, Bilton?
BILTON [with ironic calm] Gentleman walked into the high
explosives shed and lit a cigaret, sir: that's all.
UNDERSHAFT. Ah, quite so. [To Lomax] Do you happen to remember
what you did with the match?
LOMAX. Oh come! I'm not a fool. I took jolly good care to blow it
out before I chucked it away.
BILTON. The top of it was red hot inside, sir.
LOMAX. Well, suppose it was! I didn't chuck it into any of your
messes.
UNDERSHAFT. Think no more of it, Mr Lomax. By the way, would you
mind lending me your matches?
LOMAX [offering his box] Certainly.
UNDERSHAFT. Thanks. [He pockets the matches].
LOMAX [lecturing to the company generally] You know, these high
explosives don't go off like gunpowder, except when they're in a
gun. When they're spread loose, you can put a match to them
without the least risk: they just burn quietly like a bit of
paper. [Warming to the scientific interest of the subject] Did
you know that Undershaft? Have you ever tried?
UNDERSHAFT. Not on a large scale, Mr Lomax. Bilton will give you
a sample of gun cotton when you are leaving if you ask him. You
can experiment with it at home. [Bilton looks puzzled].
SARAH. Bilton will do nothing of the sort, papa. I suppose it's
your business to blow up the Russians and Japs; but you might
really stop short of blowing up poor Cholly. [Bilton gives it up
and retires into the shed].
LOMAX. My ownest, there is no danger. [He sits beside her on the
shell].
Lady Britomart arrives from the town with a bouquet.
LADY BRITOMART [coming impetuously between Undershaft and the
deck chair] Andrew: you shouldn't have let me see this place.
UNDERSHAFT. Why, my dear?
LADY BRITOMART. Never mind why: you shouldn't have: that's all.
To think of all that [indicating the town] being yours! and that
you have kept it to yourself all these years!
UNDERSHAFT. It does not belong to me. I belong to it. It is the
Undershaft inheritance.
LADY BRITOMART. It is not. Your ridiculous cannons and that noisy
banging foundry may be the Undershaft inheritance; but all that
plate and linen, all that furniture and those houses and orchards
and gardens belong to us. They belong to me: they are not a man's
business. I won't give them up. You must be out of your senses to
throw them all away; and if you persist in such folly, I will
call in a doctor.
UNDERSHAFT [stooping to smell the bouquet] Where did you get the
flowers, my dear?
LADY BRITOMART. Your men presented them to me in your William
Morris Labor Church.
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