time today, Bill. Bill Who’s goin to give it to me? You, props. Barbara Someone you don’t believe in. But you’ll be glad afterwards. Bill Slinking off. I’ll go to Kennintahn to be out o’ the reach o’ your tongue. Suddenly turning on her with intense malice. And if I don’t find Mog there, I’ll come back and do two years for you, selp me Gawd if I don’t! Barbara A shade kindlier, if possible. It’s no use, Bill. She’s got another bloke. Bill Wot! Barbara One of her own converts. He fell in love with her when he saw her with her soul saved, and her face clean, and her hair washed. Bill Surprised. Wottud she wash it for, the carroty slut? It’s red. Barbara It’s quite lovely now, because she wears a new look in her eyes with it. It’s a pity you’re too late. The new bloke has put your nose out of joint, Bill. Bill I’ll put his nose out o’ joint for him. Not that I care a curse for her, mind that. But I’ll teach her to drop me as if I was dirt. And I’ll teach him to meddle with my Judy. Wots iz bleedin’ name? Barbara Sergeant Todger Fairmile. Shirley Rising with grim joy. I’ll go with him, miss. I want to see them two meet. I’ll take him to the infirmary when it’s over. Bill To Shirley, with undissembled misgiving. Is that ’im you was speakin on? Shirley That’s him. Bill ’Im that wrastled in the music all? Shirley The competitions at the National Sportin Club was worth nigh a hundred a year to him. He’s gev ’em up now for religion; so he’s a bit fresh for want of the exercise he was accustomed to. He’ll be glad to see you. Come along. Bill Wots ’is weight? Shirley Thirteen four. Bill’s last hope expires. Barbara Go and talk to him, Bill. He’ll convert you. Shirley He’ll convert your head into a mashed potato. Bill Sullenly. I ain’t afraid of him. I ain’t afraid of ennybody. But he can lick me. She’s done me. He sits down moodily on the edge of the horse trough. Shirley You ain’t goin. I thought not. He resumes his seat. Barbara Calling. Jenny! Jenny Appearing at the shelter door with a plaster on the corner of her mouth. Yes, Major. Barbara Send Rummy Mitchens out to clear away here. Jenny I think she’s afraid. Barbara Her resemblance to her mother flashing out for a moment. Nonsense! she must do as she’s told. Jenny Calling into the shelter. Rummy: the Major says you must come. Jenny comes to Barbara, purposely keeping on the side next Bill, lest he should suppose that she shrank from him or bore malice. Barbara Poor little Jenny! Are you tired? Looking at the wounded cheek. Does it hurt? Jenny No: it’s all right now. It was nothing. Barbara Critically. It was as hard as he could hit, I expect. Poor Bill! You don’t feel angry with him, do you? Jenny Oh no, no, no: indeed I don’t, Major, bless his poor heart! Barbara kisses her; and she runs away merrily into the shelter. Bill writhes with an agonizing return of his new and alarming symptoms, but says nothing. Rummy Mitchens comes from the shelter. Barbara Going to meet Rummy. Now Rummy, bustle. Take in those mugs and plates to be washed; and throw the crumbs about for the birds. Rummy takes the three plates and mugs; but Shirley takes back his mug from her, as there it still come milk left in it. Rummy There ain’t any crumbs. This ain’t a time to waste good bread on birds. Price Appearing at the shelter door. Gentleman come to see the shelter, Major. Says he’s your father. Barbara All right. Coming. Snobby goes back into the shelter, followed by Barbara. Rummy Stealing across to Bill and addressing him in a subdued voice, but with intense conviction. I’d ’av the lor’ of you, you flat eared pignosed potwalloper, if she’d let me. You’re no gentleman, to hit a lady in the face. Bill, with greater things moving in him, takes no notice. Shirley Following her. Here! in with you and don’t get yourself into more trouble by talking. Rummy With hauteur. I ain’t ’ad the pleasure o’ being hintroduced to you, as I can remember. She goes into the shelter with the plates. Bill Savagely. Don’t you talk to me, d’ye hear. You lea’ me alone, or I’ll do you a mischief. I’m not dirt under your feet, anyway. Shirley Calmly. Don’t you be afeerd. You ain’t such prime company that you need expect to be sought after. He is about to go into the shelter when Barbara comes out, with Undershaft on her right. Barbara Oh there you are, Mr. Shirley! Between them. This is my father: I told you he was a Secularist, didn’t I? Perhaps you’ll be able to comfort one another. Undershaft Startled. A Secularist! Not the least in the world: on the contrary, a confirmed mystic. Barbara Sorry, I’m sure. By the way, papa, what is your religion⁠—in case I have to introduce you again? Undershaft My religion? Well, my dear, I am a Millionaire. That is my religion. Barbara Then I’m afraid you and Mr. Shirley won’t be able to comfort one another after all. You’re not a Millionaire, are you, Peter? Shirley No; and proud of it. Undershaft Gravely. Poverty, my friend, is not a thing to be proud of. Shirley Angrily. Who made your millions for you? Me and my like. What’s kep’ us poor? Keepin’ you rich. I wouldn’t have your conscience, not for all your income. Undershaft I wouldn’t have your income, not for all your conscience, Mr. Shirley. He goes to the penthouse and sits down on a form. Barbara Stopping Shirley adroitly as he is about to retort. You wouldn’t think he was my father, would you, Peter? Will you go into the