Part 4

DAVID: I can’t help it—you’re very attractive, and I’m always suspicious of attractive people, on principle.

MYRA: Not a very good principle.

DAVID: I’ll tell you something—strictly between ourselves.

MYRA: Do.

DAVID: You’re wrong about me.

MYRA: Wrong? In what way?

DAVID: I write very bad novels.

MYRA: Don’t be so ridiculous.

DAVID: And you _know_ I do, because you’re an intelligent person.

MYRA: I don’t know anything of the sort.

DAVID: Tell me why you’re being so nice to me?

MYRA: Because I want to be.

DAVID: Why?

MYRA: You’re a very clever and amusing man.

DAVID: Splendid.

MYRA: And I think I’ve rather lost my heart to you.

DAVID: Shall we elope?

MYRA: David!

DAVID: There now, you’ve called me David!

MYRA: Do you mind?

DAVID: Not at all.

MYRA: I’m not sure that you’re being very kind.

DAVID: What makes you think that?

MYRA: You’re being rather the cynical author laughing up his sleeve at a gushing admirer.

DAVID: I think you’re a very interesting woman, and extremely nice-looking.

MYRA: Do you?

DAVID: Yes. Would you like me to make love to you?

MYRA (_rising_): Really—I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.

DAVID: I’ve knocked you off your plate—I’ll look away for a minute while you climb on to it again. (_He does so._)

MYRA (_laughing affectedly_): This is wonderful! (_She sits down again._)

DAVID (_turning_): That’s right. Now then——

MYRA: Now then, what?

DAVID: You’re adorable—you’re magnificent—you’re tawny——

MYRA: I’m not tawny.

DAVID: Don’t argue.

MYRA: This is sheer affectation.

DAVID: Affectation’s very nice.

MYRA: No, it isn’t—it’s odious.

DAVID: You mustn’t get cross.

MYRA: I’m not in the least cross.

DAVID: Yes, you are—but you’re very alluring.

MYRA (_perking up_): Alluring?

DAVID: Terribly.

MYRA: I can hear your brain clicking—it’s very funny.

DAVID: That was rather rude.

MYRA: You’ve been consistently rude to me for hours.

DAVID: Never mind.

MYRA: Why have you?

DAVID: I’m always rude to people I like.

MYRA: Do you like me?

DAVID: Enormously.

MYRA: How sweet of you!

DAVID: But I don’t like your methods.

MYRA: Methods? What methods?

DAVID: You’re far too pleasant to occupy yourself with the commonplace.

MYRA: And you spoil yourself by trying to be clever.

DAVID: Thank you.

MYRA: Anyhow, I don’t know what you mean by commonplace.

DAVID: You mean you want me to explain?

MYRA: Not at all.

DAVID: Very well; I will.

MYRA: I shan’t listen. (_She stops up her ears._)

DAVID: You’ll pretend not to, but you’ll hear every word really.

MYRA (_sarcastically_): You’re so inscrutable and quizzical—just what a feminine psychologist should be.

DAVID: Yes, aren’t I?

MYRA: You frighten me dreadfully.

DAVID: Darling!

MYRA: Don’t call me darling.

DAVID: That’s unreasonable. You’ve been trying to make me—all the evening.

MYRA: Your conceit is outrageous!

DAVID: It’s not conceit at all. You’ve been firmly buttering me up because you want a nice little intrigue.

MYRA (_rising_): How dare you!

DAVID (_pulling her down again_): It’s true, it’s true. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be so angry.

MYRA: I think you’re insufferable!

DAVID (_taking her hand_): Myra—dear Myra——

MYRA (_snatching it away_): Don’t touch me.

DAVID: Let’s have that nice little intrigue. The only reason I’ve been so annoying is that I love to see things as they are first, and then pretend they’re what they’re not.

MYRA: Words! Masses and masses of words!

DAVID: They’re great fun to play with.

MYRA: I’m glad you think so. Personally, they bore me stiff.

DAVID (_catching her hand again_): Myra—don’t be statuesque.

MYRA: Let go my hand!

DAVID: You’re charming. (_He gets up and stands close to her._)

MYRA (_furiously_): Let go my hand.

DAVID: I won’t.

MYRA: You will!

[_She slaps his face hard, and he seizes her in his arms and kisses her._

DAVID (_between kisses_): You’re—perfectly—sweet.

MYRA (_giving in_): David!

DAVID: You must say it’s an entrancing amusement. (_He kisses her again._)

[_JUDITH appears at the top of the stairs and sees them. They break away._

JUDITH (_coming down_): Forgive me for interrupting.

DAVID: Are there any chocolates in the house?

JUDITH: No, David.

DAVID: I should like a chocolate more than anything in the world, at the moment.

JUDITH: This is a very unpleasant situation, David.

DAVID (_agreeably_): Horrible.

JUDITH: We’d better talk it all over.

MYRA (_making a movement_): I shall do nothing of the sort.

JUDITH: Please—please don’t be difficult.

DAVID: I apologise, Judith.

JUDITH: Don’t apologise—I quite understand.

MYRA: Please let go of my hand, David; I should like to go to bed.

JUDITH: I should stay if I were you—it would be more dignified.

DAVID: There isn’t any real necessity for a scene.

JUDITH: I don’t want a scene. I just want to straighten things out.

DAVID: Very well—go ahead.

JUDITH: June has always been an unlucky month for me.

MYRA: Look here, Judith, I’d like to explain one thing——

JUDITH (_austerely_): I don’t wish to hear any explanations or excuses—they’re so cheapening. This was bound to happen sooner or later—it always does, to everybody. The only thing is to keep calm.

DAVID: I am—perfectly.

JUDITH (_sharply_): There is such a thing as being too calm.

DAVID: Sorry, dear.

JUDITH: Life has dealt me another blow, but I don’t mind.

DAVID: What did you say?

JUDITH (_crossly_): I said Life had dealt me another blow, but I didn’t mind.

DAVID: Rubbish.

JUDITH (_gently_): You’re probably irritable, dear, because you’re in the wrong. It’s quite usual.

DAVID: Now, Judith——

JUDITH: Ssshhh! Let me speak—it is my right.

MYRA: I don’t see why.

JUDITH (_surprised_): I am the injured party, am I not?

MYRA: Injured?

JUDITH (_firmly_): Yes, extremely injured.

DAVID (_contemptuously_): Injured!

JUDITH: Your attitude, David, is nothing short of deplorable.

DAVID: It’s all nonsense—sheer, unbridled nonsense.

JUDITH: No, David, you can’t evade the real issues as calmly as that. I’ve known for a long time—I’ve realised subconsciously for years that you’ve stopped caring for me in “that way.”

DAVID (_irritably_): What do you mean—“that way”?

JUDITH (_with a wave of the hand_): Just that way.... It’s rather tragic, but quite inevitable. I’m growing old now—men don’t grow old like women, as you’ll find to your cost, Myra, in a year or two. David has retained his youth astonishingly, perhaps because he has had fewer responsibilities and cares than I——

MYRA: This is all ridiculous hysteria.

DAVID (_looking at her and not liking her very much_): No, Myra—Judith is right. What are we to do?

MYRA (_furious_): Do? Nothing!

JUDITH (_ignoring her_): Do you love her truly, David?

DAVID: Madly.

MYRA (_astounded_): David!

DAVID (_intensely_): You thought just now that I was joking. Couldn’t you see that all my flippancy was only a mask, hiding my real emotions—crushing them down desperately——?

MYRA (_scared_): But, David, I——

JUDITH: I knew it! The time has come for the dividing of the ways.

MYRA: What on earth do you mean?

JUDITH: I mean that I am not the sort of woman to hold a man against his will.

MYRA: You’re both making a mountain out of a mole-hill. David doesn’t love me madly, and I don’t love him. It’s——

JUDITH: Ssshhh!—you _do_ love him. I can see it in your eyes—in your every gesture. David, I give you to her—freely and without rancour. We must all be good friends, always.

DAVID: Judith, do you mean this?

JUDITH (_with a melting look_): You know I do.

DAVID: How can we ever repay you?

JUDITH: Just by being happy. I may leave this house later on—I have a feeling that its associations may become painful, specially in the autumn——

MYRA: Look here, Judith——

JUDITH (_shouting her down_): October is such a mournful month in England. I think I shall probably go abroad—perhaps a _pension_ somewhere in Italy, with cypresses in the garden. I’ve always loved cypresses.

DAVID: What about the children?

JUDITH: We must share them, dear.

DAVID: I’ll pay you exactly half the royalties I receive from everything, Judith.

JUDITH (_bowing her head_): That’s very generous of you.

DAVID: You have behaved magnificently. This is a crisis in our lives, and thanks to you——

MYRA (_almost shrieking_): Judith—I _will_ speak—I——

DAVID: Ssshhh, Myra darling—we owe it to Judith to keep control of our emotions—a scene would be agonising for her now. She has been brave and absolutely splendid throughout. Let’s not make things harder for her than we can help. Come, we’ll go out into the garden.

MYRA: I will _not_ go out into the garden.

JUDITH (_twisting her handkerchief_): Please go—I don’t think I can bear any more just now.

DAVID: So this is the end, Judith?

JUDITH: Yes, my dear,—the end.

[_They shake hands sadly._

[_SIMON enters violently from the garden._

SIMON: Mother—Mother, I’ve got something important to tell you.

JUDITH (_smiling bravely_): Very well, dear.

SIMON: Where’s Sorel?

JUDITH: In the library, I’m afraid.

SIMON (_opening library door_): Sorel, come out—I’ve got something vital to tell you.

DAVID (_fatherly_): You seem excited, my boy. What has happened?

SOREL (_entering with SANDY_): What’s the matter?

SIMON: I wish you wouldn’t all look so depressed—it’s good news!

DAVID: Good news! I thought perhaps Jackie had been drowned——

SIMON: No, Jackie hasn’t been drowned—she’s been something else.

JUDITH: Simon, what _do_ you mean?

SIMON (_calling_): Jackie—Jackie!

[_JACKIE enters coyly from the garden._

She has become engaged—to me!

JUDITH (_in heartfelt tones_): Simon!

SOREL: Good heavens!

JUDITH: Simon, my dear! Oh, this is too much! (_She cries a little_).

SIMON: What on earth are you crying about, Mother?

JUDITH (_picturesquely_): All my chicks leaving the nest. Now I shall only have my memories left. Jackie, come and kiss me.

[_JACKIE goes to her._

You must promise to make my son happy——

JACKIE (_worried_): But, Mrs. Bliss——

JUDITH: Ssshhh! I understand. I have not been a mother for nothing.

JACKIE (_wildly_): But it’s not true—we don’t——

JUDITH: You’re trying to spare my feelings—I know——

MYRA (_furiously_): Well, I’m not going to spare your feelings, or anyone else’s. You’re the most infuriating set of hypocrites I’ve ever seen. This house is a complete feather-bed of false emotions—you’re posing, self-centred egotists, and I’m sick to death of you.

SIMON: Myra!

MYRA: Don’t speak to me—I’ve been working up for this, only every time I opened my mouth I’ve been mowed down by theatrical effects. You haven’t got one sincere or genuine feeling among the lot of you—you’re artificial to the point of lunacy. It’s a great pity you ever left the stage, Judith—it’s your rightful home. You can rant and roar there as much as ever you like——

JUDITH: Rant and roar! May God forgive you!

MYRA: And let me tell you this——

SIMON (_interrupting_): I’m not going to allow you to say another word to Mother——

SOREL: } You ought to be ashamed of yourself—— MYRA: } Let me speak—I will speak—— DAVID: } Look here, Myra—— JUDITH: } This is appalling—appalling! SOREL: } You must be stark, staring mad—— MYRA: } Never again—never as long as I live—— DAVID: } You don’t seem to grasp one thing that—— SIMON: } Why are you behaving like this, anyhow?

[_In the middle of the pandemonium of everyone talking at once, RICHARD comes in from the garden. He looks extremely apprehensive, imagining that the noise is the outcome of JUDITH’S hysterical confession of their lukewarm passion. He goes to JUDITH’S side, summoning all his diplomatic forces. At his entrance everyone stops talking._

RICHARD (_with forced calm_): What’s happened? Is this a game?

[_JUDITH’S face gives a slight twitch; then with a meaning look at SOREL and SIMON, she answers him._

JUDITH (_with spirit_): Yes, and a game that must be played to the finish!

SIMON (_grasping the situation_): Zara! What does this mean?

JUDITH (_in bell-like tones_): So many illusions shattered—so many dreams trodden in the dust——

DAVID (_collapsing on to the sofa in hysterics_): Love’s whirlwind! Dear old Love’s whirlwind!

SOREL: I don’t understand. You and Victor—My God!

JUDITH: Hush! Isn’t that little Pam crying——?

SIMON (_savagely_): She’ll cry more, poor mite, when she realises her mother is a—a——

JUDITH (_shrieking_): Don’t say it! Don’t say it!

SOREL: Spare her that.

JUDITH: I’ve given you all that makes life worth living—my youth, my womanhood, and now my child. Would you tear the very heart out of me? I tell you, it’s infamous that men like you should be allowed to pollute Society. You have ruined my life. I have nothing left—nothing. God in heaven, where am I to turn for help....

SOREL (_through clenched teeth_): Is this true? Answer me—is this true?

JUDITH (_wailing_): Yes, yes!

SOREL (_springing at SIMON_): You cur!!!

JUDITH (_rushing between them_): Don’t strike! He is your father! (_She totters and falls in a dead faint._)

[_MYRA, JACKIE, RICHARD and SANDY look on, dated and aghast._

CURTAIN.

ACT III

ACT III

_It is Sunday morning, about ten o’clock. There are various breakfast dishes on a side table, and a big table is laid down centre._

[_SANDY appears at the top of the stairs. On seeing no one about, he comes down quickly and furtively helps himself to eggs and bacon and coffee, and seats himself at the table. He eats very hurriedly, casting occasional glances over his shoulder. A door bangs somewhere upstairs, which terrifies him; he chokes violently. When he has recovered, he tears a bit of toast from a rack, butters it and marmalades it, and crams it into his mouth. Then, hearing somebody approaching, he darts into the library._

[_JACKIE comes downstairs timorously; her expression is dismal, to say the least of it. She looks miserably out of the window at the pouring rain, then, assuming an air of spurious bravado, she helps herself to some breakfast and sits down and looks at it. After one or two attempts to eat it, she bursts into tears._

[_SANDY opens the library door a crack, and peeps out. JACKIE, seeing the door move, screams. SANDY re-enters._

JACKIE: Oh, it’s only you—you frightened me!

SANDY: What’s the matter?

JACKIE (_sniffing_): Nothing.

SANDY: I say, don’t cry.

JACKIE: I’m not crying.

SANDY: You were—I heard you.

JACKIE: It’s this house. It gets on my nerves.

SANDY: I don’t wonder—after last night.

JACKIE: What were you doing in the library just now?

SANDY: Hiding.

JACKIE: Hiding?

SANDY: Yes; I didn’t want to run up against any of the family.

JACKIE: I wish I’d never come. I had horrible nightmares with all those fearful dragons crawling across the wall.

SANDY: Dragons?

JACKIE: Yes; I’m in a Japanese room—everything in it’s Japanese, even the bed.

SANDY: How awful!

JACKIE: I believe they’re all mad, you know.

SANDY: The Blisses?

JACKIE: Yes—they must be.

SANDY: I’ve been thinking that too.

JACKIE: Do you suppose they know they’re mad?

SANDY: No; people never do.

JACKIE: It was Mr. Bliss asked me down, and he hasn’t paid any attention to me at all. I went into his study soon after I arrived yesterday, and he said, “Who the hell are you?”

SANDY: Didn’t he remember?

JACKIE: He did afterwards; then he brought me down to tea and left me.

SANDY: Are you really engaged to Simon?

JACKIE (_bursting into tears again_): Oh, no—I hope not!

SANDY: You were, last night.

JACKIE: So were you—to Sorel.

SANDY: Not properly. We talked it over.

JACKIE: I don’t know what happened to me. I was in the garden with Simon, and he was being awfully sweet, and then he suddenly kissed me, and rushed into the house and said we were engaged—and that hateful Judith asked me to make him happy!

SANDY: That’s exactly what happened to me and Sorel. Judith gave us to one another before we knew where we were.

JACKIE: How frightful!

SANDY: I like Sorel, though; she was jolly decent about it afterwards.

JACKIE: I think she’s a cat.

SANDY: Why?

JACKIE: Look at the way she lost her temper over that beastly game.

SANDY: All the same, she’s better than the others.

JACKIE: That wouldn’t be very difficult.

SANDY: Hic!

JACKIE: I beg your pardon?

SANDY (_abashed_): I say—I’ve got hiccoughs.

JACKIE: Hold your breath.

SANDY: It was because I bolted my breakfast. (_He holds his breath._)

JACKIE: Hold it as long as you can.

[_There is a pause._

SANDY (_letting his breath go with a gasp_): I can’t any more—hic!

JACKIE: Eat a lump of sugar.

SANDY (_taking one_): I’m awfully sorry.

JACKIE: I don’t mind—but it’s a horrid feeling, isn’t it?

SANDY: Horrid—hic!

JACKIE (_conversationally_): People have died from hiccoughs, you know.

SANDY (_gloomily_): Have they?

JACKIE: Yes. An aunt of mine once had them for three days without stopping.

SANDY: How beastly.

JACKIE (_with relish_): She had to have the doctor, and everything.

SANDY: I expect mine will stop soon.

JACKIE: I hope they will.

SANDY: Hic!—There!

JACKIE: Drink some water the wrong way round.

SANDY: How do you mean—the wrong way round?

JACKIE (_rising_): The wrong side of the glass. I’ll show you. (_She goes to side table._) There isn’t any water.

SANDY: Perhaps coffee would do as well.

JACKIE: I’ve never tried coffee, but it might. (_She pours him out some._) There you are.

SANDY (_anxiously_): What do I do?

JACKIE: Tip it up and drink from the opposite side, sort of upside down.

SANDY (_trying_): I can’t reach any——

JACKIE (_suddenly_): Look out—somebody’s coming. Bring it into the library—quick....

SANDY: Bring the sugar—I might need it again—hic! Oh God!

JACKIE: All right.

[_They go off into the library hurriedly._

[_RICHARD comes downstairs. He glances round a trifle anxiously; then, pulling himself together, he goes boldly to the barometer and taps it. It falls off the wall and breaks; he picks it up quickly and places it on the piano. Then he helps himself to some breakfast, and sits down._

[_MYRA appears on the stairs, very smart and bright._

MYRA (_vivaciously_): Good morning.

RICHARD: Good morning.

MYRA: Are we the first down?

RICHARD: No, I don’t think so.

MYRA (_looking out of the window_): Isn’t this rain miserable?

RICHARD: Appalling!

MYRA: Where’s the barometer?

RICHARD: On the piano.

MYRA: What a queer place for it to be.

RICHARD: I tapped it, and it fell down.

MYRA: Typical of this house. (_At side table_) Are you having eggs and bacon, or haddock?

RICHARD: Haddock.

MYRA: I’ll have haddock too. I simply couldn’t strike out a line for myself this morning. (_She helps herself to haddock and coffee, and sits down opposite RICHARD._) Have you seen anybody?

RICHARD: No.

MYRA: Good. We might have a little peace.

RICHARD: Have you ever stayed here before?

MYRA: No, and I never will again.

RICHARD: I feel far from well this morning.

MYRA: I’m so sorry, but not entirely surprised.

RICHARD: You see, I had the boiler room.

MYRA: How terrible!

RICHARD: The window stuck, and I couldn’t open it—I was nearly suffocated. The pipes made peculiar noises all night, as well.

MYRA: There isn’t any sugar.

RICHARD: Oh—we’d better ring.

MYRA: I doubt if it will be the slightest use, but we’ll try.

RICHARD (_ringing and ringing bell_): Do the whole family have breakfast in bed?

MYRA: I neither know—nor care.

RICHARD: They’re strange people, aren’t they?

MYRA: I think “strange” is putting it mildly.

[_Enter CLARA._

CLARA: What’s the matter?

MYRA: There isn’t any sugar.

CLARA: There is—I put it ’ere myself.

MYRA: Perhaps you’d find it for us, then?

CLARA (_searching_): That’s very funny. I could ’ave sworn on me Bible oath I brought it in.

MYRA: Well, it obviously isn’t here now.

CLARA: Someone’s taken it—that’s what it is.

RICHARD: It seems a queer thing to do.

MYRA: Do you think you could get us some more?

CLARA: Oh, yes, I’ll fetch you some; but mark my words, there’s been some ’anky-panky somewhere. (_She goes out._)

MYRA: Clara is really more at home in a dressing-room than a house.

RICHARD: Was she Judith’s dresser?

MYRA: Of course. What other excuse could there possibly be for her?

RICHARD: She seems good-natured, but quaint.

MYRA: This haddock’s disgusting.

RICHARD: It isn’t very nice, is it?

[_Re-enter CLARA with sugar. She plumps it down._

CLARA: There you are, dear.

MYRA: Thank you.

CLARA: It’s a shame the weather’s changed—you might ’ave ’ad such fun up the river.

[_There comes the sound of a crash from the library, and a scream._

What’s that? (_She opens the door._) Come out! What are you doing?

[_JACKIE and SANDY enter, rather shamefaced._

JACKIE: Good morning. I’m afraid we’ve broken a coffee-cup.

CLARA: Was there any coffee in it?

SANDY: Yes, a good deal.

CLARA (_rushing into the library_): Oh dear! all over the carpet!

SANDY: It was my fault. I’m most awfully sorry.

[_CLARA reappears._

CLARA: How did you come to do it?

JACKIE: Well, you see, he had the hiccoughs, and I was showing him how to drink upside down.

MYRA: How ridiculous!

CLARA: Well, thank ’Eaven it wasn’t one of the Crown Derbys. (_She goes out._)

SANDY: They’ve gone now, anyhow.

JACKIE: It was the sudden shock, I expect.

SANDY (_observantly_): I say—it’s raining!

MYRA: It’s been raining for hours.

RICHARD: Mrs. Arundel——

MYRA: Yes?

RICHARD: What are you going to do about—about to-day?

MYRA: Nothing, except go up to London by the first train possible.

RICHARD: Do you mind if I come too? I don’t think I could face another day like yesterday.

JACKIE: Neither could I.

SANDY (_eagerly_): Let’s all go away—quietly!

RICHARD: Won’t it seem a little rude if we _all_ go?

MYRA: Yes it will. (_To SANDY_) You and Miss Coryton must stay.

JACKIE: I don’t see why.

SANDY: I don’t think they’d mind _very_ much if we all went.

MYRA: Yes, they would. You must let Mr. Greatham and me get away first, anyhow. Ring for Clara. I want to find out about trains.

RICHARD: I hope they won’t all come down now.

MYRA: You needn’t worry about that; they’re sure to roll about in bed for hours—they’re such a slovenly family.

RICHARD: Have you got much packing to do?

MYRA: No; I did most of it before I came down.

[_Re-enter CLARA._

CLARA: What is it now?

MYRA: Can you tell me what trains there are up to London?

CLARA: When?

MYRA: This morning.

CLARA: Why?—you’re not leaving, are you?

MYRA: Yes; Mr. Greatham and I have to be up by lunch-time.

CLARA: Well, you have missed the 10.15.

MYRA: Obviously.

CLARA: There isn’t another till 12.30.

RICHARD: Good heavens!

CLARA: And that’s a slow one. (_She goes out._)

SANDY (_to JACKIE_): Look here; I’ll take you up in my car as soon as you like.

JACKIE: All right; lovely!

MYRA: You’ve got a car, haven’t you?

SANDY: Yes.

MYRA: Will it hold all of us?

JACKIE: You said it would be rude for us all to go. Hadn’t you and Mr. Greatham better wait for the train?

MYRA: Certainly not.

RICHARD (_to SANDY_): If there is room, we should be very, very grateful.

SANDY: I think I can squeeze you in.

MYRA: Then that’s settled, then.

JACKIE: When shall we start?

SANDY: As soon as you’re ready.

JACKIE: Mrs. Arundel, what are you going to do about tipping Clara?

MYRA: I don’t know. (_To RICHARD_) What do you think?

RICHARD: I’ve hardly seen her since I’ve been here.

JACKIE: Isn’t there a housemaid or anything?

RICHARD: I don’t think so.

SANDY: Is ten bob enough?

JACKIE: Each?

MYRA: Too much.

RICHARD: We’d better give her one pound ten between us.

MYRA: Very well, then. Will you do it, and we’ll settle up in the car?

RICHARD: Must I?

MYRA: Yes. Ring for her.

RICHARD: You’d do it much better.

[_SANDY rings the bell._

MYRA: Oh, no, I shouldn’t. (_To JACKIE_) Come on; we’ll finish our packing.

JACKIE: All right.

[_They begin to go upstairs._

RICHARD: Here—don’t leave me.

SANDY: I’ll just go and look at the car. Will you all be ready in ten minutes?