JAMES (sharply). Is there anything to be ashamed of in that?
PHILIP. Oh no, nothing at all. Only it doesn't happen to appeal to
me.
JAMES. If you knew which side your bread was buttered, it would
appeal to you very considerably.
PHILIP. I'm afraid I can't see the butter for the jam.
JAMES. I don't want any silly jokes of that sort. You were glad
enough to get it out there, I've no doubt.
PHILIP. Oh yes. Perhaps that's why I'm so sick of it now. ... No,
it's no good, Uncle James; you must think of something else.
JAMES (with a sneer). Perhaps _you've_ thought of something else?
PHILIP. Well, I had some idea of being an architect--
JAMES. You propose to start learning to be an architect at twenty-three?
PHILIP (smiling). Well, I couldn't start before, could I?
JAMES. Exactly. And now you'll find it's too late.
PHILIP. Is it? Aren't there going to be any more architects, or
doctors, or solicitors, or barristers? Because we've all lost four
years of our lives, are all the professions going to die out?
JAMES. And how old do you suppose you'll be before you're earning
money as an architect?
PHILIP. The usual time, whatever that may be. If I'm four years
behind, so is everybody else.
JAMES. Well, I think it's high time you began to earn a living at
once.
PHILIP.
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