HYPATIA. Youve fallen in love with her. _[She laughs]._
BENTLEY. It's beastly of you to laugh.
LORD SUMMERHAYS. Youre not the first to fall today under the lash of
that young lady's terrible derision, Bentley.
_Lina, her cap on, and her goggles in her hand, comes impetuously
through the inner door._
LINA. _[on the steps]_ Mr Percival: can we get that aeroplane
started again? _[She comes down and runs to the pavilion door]._ I
must get out of this into the air: right up into the blue.
PERCIVAL. Impossible. The frame's twisted. The petrol has given
out: thats what brought us down. And how can we get a clear run to
start with among these woods?
LINA. _[swooping back through the middle of the pavilion]_ We can
straighten the frame. We can buy petrol at the Beacon. With a few
laborers we can get her out on to the Portsmouth Road and start her
along that.
TARLETON. _[rising]_ But why do you want to leave us, Miss Szcz?
LINA. Old pal: this is a stuffy house. You seem to think of nothing
but making love. All the conversation here is about love-making. All
the pictures are about love-making. The eyes of all of you are
sheep's eyes. You are steeped in it, soaked in it: the very texts on
the walls of your bedrooms are the ones about love.
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