such like. See?

TANNER. Sarcasm, Tavy, sarcasm! Oh, if you could only see into Enry's
soul, the depth of his contempt for a gentleman, the arrogance of his
pride in being an engineer, would appal you. He positively likes the car
to break down because it brings out my gentlemanly helplessness and his
workmanlike skill and resource.

STRAKER. Never you mind him, Mr Robinson. He likes to talk. We know him,
don't we?

OCTAVIUS. [earnestly] But there's a great truth at the bottom of what he
says. I believe most intensely in the dignity of labor.

STRAKER. [unimpressed] That's because you never done any Mr Robinson.
My business is to do away with labor. You'll get more out of me and a
machine than you will out of twenty laborers, and not so much to drink
either.

TANNER. For Heaven's sake, Tavy, don't start him on political economy.
He knows all about it; and we don't. You're only a poetic Socialist,
Tavy: he's a scientific one.

STRAKER. [unperturbed] Yes. Well, this conversation is very improvin;
but I've got to look after the car; and you two want to talk about your
ladies. I know. [He retires to busy himself about the car; and presently
saunters off towards the house].

TANNER. That's a very momentous social phenomenon.

OCTAVIUS. What is?

TANNER. Straker is. Here have we literary and cultured persons been
for years setting up a cry of the New Woman whenever some unusually old
fashioned female came along; and never noticing the advent of the New
Man. Straker's the New Man.

OCTAVIUS. I see nothing new about him, except your way of chaffing
him. But I don't want to talk about him just now. I want to speak to you
about Ann.

TANNER. Straker knew even that. He learnt it at the Polytechnic,
probably. Well, what about Ann? Have you proposed to her?

OCTAVIUS. [self-reproachfully] I was brute enough to do so last night.

TANNER. Brute enough! What do you mean?

OCTAVIUS. [dithyrambically] Jack: we men are all coarse. We never
understand how exquisite a woman's sensibilities are. How could I have
done such a thing!

TANNER. Done what, you maudlin idiot?

OCTAVIUS. Yes, I am an idiot. Jack: if you had heard her voice! if you
had seen her tears! I have lain awake all night thinking of them. If she
had reproached me, I could have borne it better.

TANNER. Tears! that's dangerous. What did she say?

OCTAVIUS. She asked me how she could think of anything now but her dear
father. She stifled a sob--[he break