TIMBRELL. Silence. You will do what you are told. You are not one of us. You never have been. A useless dilettante. Here's a chance for you. Don't you see that? A chance. If you can't take it, it shall be forced on you. Will you marry him Mary, or let him go out into the street? MARY. If he's like as you say, it's no great catch. MRS. TIMBRELL. Mary! LEONARD. She's right. I'm no great catch. She's the sensible person in this conference. Let's end it. Let's do something else. TIMBRELL. We'll finish this now. Edgar, fetch me the Bible--the Family Bible. You know where it is--in the dining-room. EDGAR. But--what-- TIMBRELL. [_Loudly._] At once. [_EDGAR goes._] MRS. TIMBRELL. My dear--[_TIMBRELL holds up his hand and she stops._] LEONARD. The Family Bible! It's like bringing out an obsolete instrument of torture. I'd forgotten that we had a Family Bible. TIMBRELL. The names of my father's children and their wives and children are recorded there. LEONARD. And a very nice old custom, too. TIMBRELL. Your ribaldry is ill-timed, sir. LEONARD. Ribaldry! I can't make a remark that suits you unless I'm hypocritical. I think it is a nice custom. MRS. TIMBRELL. Edward, let us think over this a little more. Let us try to see things more clearly. TIMBRELL. Where is Edgar? What's he doing? MARY. Oh! send me away and be done. I don't want to make trouble. TIMBRELL. [_Loudly._] Edgar! Where is Edgar? [_Voices are heard outside. EDGAR enters with the Bible._] TIMBRELL. What's that? Who's there? What have you been doing? EDGAR. It's Ada and--it's Ada. LEONARD. Better stop up the keyhole, sir, if you wish these rites to be secret. MRS. TIMBRELL. Oh! be quiet, Leonard. LEONARD. I must keep up my spirits somehow, Mother. TIMBRELL. [_Loudly._] Ada! And is Sheila there? Come in. [_They enter immediately._] LEONARD. I told you so. ADA. What is it, father? What's going to happen? TIMBRELL. Put that Bible down here. [_Pointing to table._] Pen and ink. [_EDGAR brings pen and ink._] ADA. Father, what are you going to do? TIMBRELL. Sheila, I thought your name would be the next to be entered in this Book, but another is before you. ADA. Father, I don't want to be hard on Mary, but really--I do think-- SHEILA. I'm sorry for her but I think I ought to be considered. My wedding's spoilt. LEONARD. Inadequate, inadequate. My dear Sheila, you're bringing us down to a lower level than we've reached yet. MARY. I won't stay. I thank you for your kindness ma'am. I give you a month's notice, but if I may I'll go now without wages. LEONARD. Just listen to her, Sheila. It may do you good. TIMBRELL. Listen to this. [_He strikes the Bible with his fist._] I swear by this Book that unless my son, Leonard, marries that woman, Mary--What is your name? MARY. My name is Mary Broome.