of the word. I loathe plays.

TROTTER. [disappointed] That last remark destroys all the value of your
admission. You admire these--these theatrical nondescripts? You enjoy
them?

FANNY. Dont you?

TROTTER. Of course I do. Do you take me for a fool? Do you suppose I
prefer popular melodramas? Have I not written most appreciative notices
of them? But I say theyre not plays. Theyre not plays. I cant consent to
remain in this house another minute if anything remotely resembling them
is to be foisted on me as a play.

FANNY. I fully admit that theyre not plays. I only want you to tell my
father that plays are not plays nowadays--not in your sense of the word.

TROTTER. Ah, there you go again! In my sense of the word! You believe
that my criticism is merely a personal impression; that--

FANNY. You always said it was.

TROTTER. Pardon me: not on this point. If you had been classically
educated--

FANNY. But I have.

TROTTER. Pooh! Cambridge! If you had been educated at Oxford, you
would know that the definition of a play has been settled exactly and
scientifically for two thousand two hundred and sixty years. When I say
that these entertainments are not plays, I dont mean in my sense of
the word, but in the sense given to it for all time by the immortal
Stagirite.

FANNY. Who is the Stagirite?

TROTTER. [shocked] You dont know who the Stagirite was?

FANNY. Sorry. Never heard of him.

TROTTER. And this is Cambridge education! Well, my dear young lady, I'm
delighted to find theres something you don't know; and I shant spoil you
by dispelling an ignorance which, in my opinion, is highly becoming to
your age and sex. So we'll leave it at that.

FANNY. But you will promise to tell my father that lots of people
write plays just like this one--that I havnt selected it out of mere
heartlessness?

TROTTER. I cant possibly tell you what I shall say to your father about
the play until Ive seen the play. But I'll tell you what I shall say to
him about you. I shall say that youre a very foolish young lady; that
youve got into a very questionable set; and that the sooner he takes you
away from Cambridge and its Fabian Society, the better.

FANNY. It's so funny to hear you pretending to be a heavy father. In
Cambridge we regard you as a _bel esprit_, a wit, an Irresponsible, a
Parisian Immoralist, _tres chic_.

TROTTER. I!

FANNY. Theres quite a Trotter set.

TROTTER. Well, upon my word!

FANNY. They go in for a