Walter. They want to deal with it. They want the Polygon. Vin. They can't have it. They must know it 'ud be cutting off their nose to spite their face. The Polygon's essential to Carrington. Walter. Why? Vin. It _is_ Carrington. I tell you this, young man, Carrington's last state would be worse than its first if you took us away. We--we circulate money. We give the place a tone. Walter. It's a tone the place could do without. It could do without your money. We are not Carrington. The factories are the essential Carrington. Mr. Vining, (_rising and taking a step to r. c._) let me show you what it's like--whole families living--no, not living--pigging in a single room. Rooms cut up amongst two or three families. All in Carrington, our neighbours in Christian Carrington. Vin. Thanks. I'm not the sort of man to put my head into a noose. I prefer to keep out of infection. Walter (_appealingly_). Don't send that letter to Sir Charles. Don't try to influence his decision. The workpeople can't move out of the town. They must live near their work. You can move. Dividends can reach you anywhere just as easily. Mrs. V. Move of ourselves! Never! Mrs. M. Walter, you don't understand what you're asking us to do. You're young. You can change easily, because you're young and restless. But when you've lived in a house that's dear to you till it's become part of your life, you can't leave it in your old age. (_Walter crosses above settee._) Mont. I can't leave my garden. You know that. No other garden would mean the same to me. Vin. My dear friends, you needn't worry. Carrington would never let us go. Walter's got hold of the wrong end of the stick. We're an institution. Walter. How do you know? Did you ever ask them what they think of us? Vin. I'll ask Pilling. You'll see. (_Crosses up c._) Walter. I shouldn't advise you to. I know Pilling's home. He's a wife and child. They all live in one room. Vin. Why, I pay the man twenty-two shillings a week. What does he live like that for? Walter. He's no choice. Pilling 'ull tell you what Carrington thinks of the Polygon. Vin. He's a long time washing his hands. (_Goes up to window and looks off r._) Walter. But you're not going to send that letter now. Vin. Certainly we are. (_Returns r.c._) Walter. But---- Mont. I think we're all agreed on that? Vin. Quite. No stone unturned. That fellow who's coming, what's his name--you know, Walter--that alderman---- Walter. Verity? Vin. Verity. That's it. We must make sure of the town authorities. A little affability goes a long way with people of that sort. Mrs. V. Yes. He's not the type of man you're accustomed to meet in my drawing-room, Mrs. Montgomery, still---- Mont. It's in a good cause, Mrs. Vining. Mrs. M. He's an architect, isn't he? Walter. He's a builder who's his own architect. That's why his houses fall to pieces. Mrs. M. That's what I say. An architect. Almost a professional man.