Walter. Nothing, probably. He gave me an expensive education. Ste. Then he made a bad investment if it's only worth £150 a year to you to-day. I had no education and I'm worth--well, never mind. Lucy, tell him what I've been telling you to-night. Lucy. What you told me? Ste. Don't repeat my words like a fool. Go on. You've got your chance of talking now. Lucy. But---- Ste. So like a woman to be backward at tongue-wagging, isn't it? Lucy (_as if repeating a lesson_). You told me that mother left me money which you've, increased by investment till it's now capable of yielding £1,000 a year, and since my twenty-first birthday a week ago the money lies to my credit at the bank. Ste. That's right. Now, my gallant £3 a weeker, what have you got to say to that? Walter. Of course I didn't know. Ste. No. I'll gamble you didn't. You fancied I lived in a small house because I couldn't afford a big 'un. That's a regular Polygon notion. You're used to their way of living up to your income and as much beyond as you've pluck for. When a man's worked as hard as I have he don't spend as fast as he earns. He sticks to what he's got. Walter. I knew you were a successful man, sir. Ste. I've made my way. I began low and I'm no class now, bar what they think of me at the bank--and that's a fat lot more than they think of any fine Polygon gentlemen. Would you like to know where Lucy's bit comes from? Walter. Really, I'm---- Ste. Her grandfather kept the _Black Bull_. That's where it was made, except what I've added to it. Stinks of beer, that money does. Pubs were a good thing in his time for a landlord that kept off the drink. Walter. I've no doubt it was honestly made. Ste. Aye, ye _would_ think that now you fancy your chance of fingering it. It was made in the way of business same as my own was, and that means the best man won and he hadn't time to stand still and think about honesty. Too busy downing the other fellow for that. And now you've got it. That's me, sir, builder and contractor, and married a publican's daughter. Feeling as keen set on Lucy as you were? Walter. I don't believe very much in artificial class distinctions, Mr. Verity. Ste. Don't you? Not in your business hours, you mean. Not so long as you remember you're a parson. Lucy. Father! (_Rises._) Ste. Well, what's the matter with you? Do you want to marry him? Lucy. Yes. Ste. You're a fool. You've £1,000 a year. You're an heiress. He's a pauper.. Walter. I'm not a pauper, but I quite agree. From the worldly point of view---- Ste. It's the only view I care-about. (_To Lucy._) With your money you can look high. Lucy. Thanks, father. When I want to buy a husband, I'll let you know. I'm thinking of marrying one at present. Ste. (_immensely surprised_). Hullo! Showing spirit, are you? (_Rises._) Lucy. It's the first time, if I am.