Walter (_appealingly_). Oh, don't split hairs over words. The town's crying for fresh air and health. The town wants to buy the Polygon. Mont. The town does? Walter. Yes, didn't you know? Vin. (_looking at Stephen_). So it's the town? Walter (_as Stephen doesn't answer_). Yes. Mrs. M. (_up by door, r., dropping to Montgomery by fire_). Augustus, don't you think, after all, we ought perhaps to---- (_Hesitating._) Vin. (_l. c. fiercely_). To what, Mrs. Montgomery? Mrs. M. Well, I'm sure there's something in what Mr. Verity and Walter say. (_Sits in armchair above fire._) Mont. Come, this is weakness, my dear. Vin. No compromise, Mrs. Montgomery. Mrs. M. I shall never feel at ease again when I think of the overcrowding in the town. Vin. Then don't think of it. Mrs. M. I can't help thinking of it now. Mont, (_to Walter_). Oh, dear, I do wish you'd kept your mouth closed. Walter. And my eyes closed, and my nose closed, and gone about Carrington without looking at it. No, father, I meant to stir your conscience, and I'm glad I've done it. (_Sits._) Vin. Well, I must admit--hang it, Verity, if people are crowded why don't you build 'em houses? It's your trade. Ste. No land. (_About here Pilling appears c. with some garden stuff in his hand, and Mrs. Vining exit with him for some consultation._) Vin. There's land enough outside. Why can't the town expand outwards? To hear you talk about the Polygon the town might have a wall round it. Mont. Yes, there's lots of moorland about the place. Ste. Quite so. Lots of moor. Mont. Well, then! Ste. Shooting moor. Sir Charles' shooting moor. Vin. Well, what difference do a few acres more or less make to a shooting moor? Surely he'd rather sell you some of that. Ste. Think so? Mont. I'm certain of it. Ste. (_sitting on settee_). You're wrong, then. He's holding on for a rise. He's held on to this till the value went up. Land here in the centre's' worth more, than land outside. This is ripe. The other isn't. That's why he'll sell this. Vin. (_r. c._). Well, if that's really so---- Ste. (_grimly_). It's really so. Vin. (_with-an air of finality_). All I can say is I shall most certainly have to revise my opinion of Sir Charles. (_Crosses down L._) (_Pilling is visible through the window working a mowing machine in the garden; he passes and repasses at intervals._) Ste. Did you think your tin pot rents paid Sir Charles to let land like this lie idle? Mont. He likes to have us here. We're desirable tenants. Ste. Pardon me. As a property owner I know. Desirable tenants are paying tenants. Vin. Do you insinuate that we don't pay? Ste. You don't pay a profitable price. He can make a little gold, mine of the Polygon. Land values in the town have been going up all the time. He's cute enough to know it, or his agent is. The only question is, will our price tempt him or is he able to be greedy and wait a bit longer till the land's worth more.