(slow melancholic music) - I think our race is degenerating.
(scoffs) We cannot settle even this little thing.
What'll it be like we have to settle a big one?
- It's little things one bungles at.
Big, real ones are nothing when they come.
- I was thinking of father, having to leave Germany at 40.
Adopt a new country and new ideals.
We, at our age, can't even change houses.
I wish you'd come with me.
- No.
I'd rather leave it to you.
But you won't do anything rash, will you Margaret?
- There's nothing rash to do.
This is awfully kind, but I'm afraid it's not going to do.
A house has not been built that suits the Schlegel family.
- What, have you come to tell me not to deal?
- Not exactly.
- Not exactly.
Well, in that case, let's be starting.
- Is this a new motorcar, Mr.
Wilcox?
- Yes, yes.
- Presumably, it's very beautiful.
How do you like it, Crane?
- Oh, very much, mum.
- Is it a steam car?
- No, no, I don't hold with steam engines.
- No, of corse not, there's no assuming, but are they faster?
I read... - They are just now, but they-- - Crane, thank you.
But the potentialities of the internal combustion - No future in the steam car.
- are infinitely-- Crane.
Oh, beg your pardon, sir.
- May I?
- No, thank you, I can manage.
- Nonsense, let me help you.
- Um... - So, how on earth did you know my chauffer was called Crane?
- Oh, I know Crane.
I've been driving with Mrs.
Wilcox.
I know you have a housekeeper, called Maisy.
I know all sorts of things.
