Ste. Well, damme, Sam Bamford, you can't get a thousand a year without paying a tax on it. Bam. You can pay too much tax if you get a woman thrown in with a razor instead of a tongue. Ste. (_disgustedly_). I thought you were a man of your word. Bam. And I thought you cracked to be a friend of mine. Ste. I am your friend. Bam. Perhaps; but as a rule when a man's as anxious as you are to sell an article I begin to think there's something wrong with the goods. Ste. Didn't I tell you on Tuesday I didn't want her to marry at all? Bam. Didn't Sir Charles' agent write me he wouldn't want to sell? And you know what you said about that. Ste. But I'm not selling. I'm giving. Bam. Yes, and nobody ever knew you to give away anything worth having. What's he given her the chuck for, if it comes to that? He knows something. Walter. Yes. I know something, Mr. Bamford. Ste. (_raps table_). I'm not going to be played about with like this. I never asked either of you to come after my daughter. You came because you liked, but you'll not cry off when you like. Bam. What do you mean now? Ste. _One_ of you's going to marry her. Bam. It won't be me, then. I don't want any woman with a temper of her own. Ste. I tell you she hasn't got a temper. Lucy (_rises_). I've got a tongue. Ste. Be quiet. Lucy. I won't be quiet while you wrangle over me like---- Ste. (_thundering_). Go to your room. I'll tame you. (_Lucy deliberately sits down._) Bam. There you are, Verity. Regular spitfire. Too late to send her away now. I know what she is. Walter (_rising_). So do I. She's a monstrous woman with an abnormally developed bump of business capacity and I absolutely decline to marry any member of a syndicate of avaricious thieves formed to swindle---- Ste. (_interrupting_). She's no more business capacity than a flea and I'll take her off the syndicate to-night, if that 'ull please you. Now then, which of you is it to be? Bam. I don't wish to quarrel with you, Verity. I've told you I'm taking none. Ste. (_briskly_). All right. Then you marry young Montgomery, Lucy. (_Moves L. above table._) Lucy. He says he won't have me while I'm in the Syndicate. Ste. I'll get you out of that. Bam. You can't do that, Verity. (_Moves to table R._) Ste. Can't I? I will, though. Bam. You'll upset the whole thing. Ste. I'll look after that. (_Maid announces Mr. Alcorn. Enter Alcorn; exit Maid r._) Ste. Ah! Got the letter, Alcorn? Alcorn. Yes. I don't understand it. Ste. Just a moment. (_Opens door l. and calls._) Smithson! (_Enter Smithson._) Walter. I'd better go. Ste. You've no need. You know so much about it you can stay and listen to the rest. (_Gets chair._) (_Stephen sits at head of table. Bamford, Smithson, Alcorn sit as in Act II. Lucy stands r., Walter sits below fire._) Alcorn. Well, gentlemen, he won't sell. (_Taking out letter._) Ste. Refuses to sell? What does this mean? Smiths, (_to Bamford_). And you assured us he was broke.