Ste. Well, I tell you you'll be throwing yourself away on young Montgomery..(_Persuasively._) He's not up to your weight, Lucy. Polygon type, he is. You know, shove all your goods in the shop window. Live in a big house for swank and get it dirt cheap because the neighbourhood's gone down. They're not solid.. Lucy, you and I together could buy up the whole, crowd of swells to-morrow.. Lucy. I fell in love with Walter before I knew I'd a penny piece in the world. I don't think my money must make any difference. Ste. Don't be silly. Money makes all differences. We're all born without pockets. It's pockets or no pockets that makes us rich or poor. Yesterday you didn't knew you'd a pocket and the Polygon looked big and young Montgomery, he looked big. I don't blame you. It looked a good thing. Lucy. It looks the same to-day as it did yesterday. Ste. Women are fools over money. I did think _you'd_ more sense. (_Dogmatically._) Money should, marry money. (_With rising irritation._) It's all my eye to talk of throwing away your money on a penniless curate. Lucy (_rises_). I'm sorry to disagree. Obedience has its limits. I hope we shan't quarrel, father, but I'm a free woman now and I warn you--oh, I'm sorry. Ste. Sorry, are you? I'm a hard man, Lucy. I'm a masterful man. I know that. But I'm a soft-hearted fool where you're concerned, or I'd let you marry the curate and suffer the consequences. But I've got ambitions for you if you've none for yourself. (_R.d._) When you marry there's two things for it--money or birth--and you'll not find either in Polygon. They're a bad imitation of the real thing--about as near as the shoddy Bamford makes it to honest broadcloth. Not one of them with a handle to his name. (_Crosses to Lucy._) If you must get married, I'll find you a husband. Leave it to me. And don't be in such a hurry to leave your old dad if you are a free woman. Lucy (_quietly_). I'm marrying Walter Montgomery, father; but we're not in any hurry. Ste. Going to be obstinate, are you? All right, We'll see who'll win. Lucy. You've already given a conditional consent. Ste. Don't you worry about that. He may help to keep the Polygon set quiet till I've put the business through. (_Puts ink on table from sideboard._) Lucy. You'd use him and then throw him over afterwards. Father, you don't mean that! Ste. What do you know about business? I'd use the devil himself if I thought he'd smooth my way to a bit of money. Lucy. But this isn't money, is it? It's for the town. Ste. Oh, yes, of course, it's the town. Lucy. Then you'd---- (_Janet, the maid, opens the door right to Stephen's obvious relief._) Janet. Mr. Bamford, Mr. Alcorn. Ste. Ah, that's what I'm waiting for. Don't go beyond call, Lucy. I'll be wanting you soon. (_Exit Lucy l._) (_Enter r. Bamford and Alcorn._)