THE MAN. Because I shouldnt be let. He hasnt even the sense to see that it would pay him to get some cheap soldiering out of me. How can a man tied to a desk from nine to six be anything--be even a man, let alone a soldier? But I'll teach him and you a lesson. Ive had enough of living a dog's life and despising myself for it. Ive had enough of being talked down to by hogs like you, and wearing my life out for a salary that wouldnt keep you in cigars. Youll never believe that a clerk's a man until one of us makes an example of one of you. TARLETON. Despotism tempered by assassination, eh? THE MAN. Yes. Thats what they do in Russia. Well, a business office is Russia as far as the clerks are concerned. So dont you take it so coolly. You think I'm not going to do it; but I am. TARLETON. _[rising and facing him]_ Come, now, as man to man! It's not my fault that youre poorer than I am; and it's not your fault that I'm richer than you. And if you could undo all that passed between me and your mother, you wouldnt undo it; and neither would she. But youre sick of your slavery; and you want to be the hero of a romance and to get into the papers. Eh? A son revenges his mother's shame. Villain weltering in his gore. Mother: look down from heaven and receive your unhappy son's last sigh. THE MAN. Oh, rot! do you think I read novelettes? And do you suppose I believe such superstitions as heaven? I go to church because the boss told me I'd get the sack if I didnt. Free England! Ha! _[Lina appears at the pavilion door, and comes swiftly and noiselessly forward on seeing the man with a pistol in his hand]._ TARLETON. Youre afraid of getting the sack; but youre not afraid to shoot yourself. THE MAN. Damn you! youre trying to keep me talking until somebody comes. _[He raises the pistol desperately, but not very resolutely]._ LINA. _[at his right elbow]_ Somebody has come. THE MAN _[turning on her]_ Stand off. I'll shoot you if you lay a hand on me. I will, by God. LINA. You cant cover me with that pistol. Try. _He tries, presenting the pistol at her face. She moves round him in the opposite direction to the hands of a clock with a light dancing step. He finds it impossible to cover her with the pistol: she is always too far to his left. Tarleton, behind him, grips his wrist and drags his arm straight up, so that the pistol points to the ceiling. As he tries to turn on his assailant, Lina grips his other wrist._ LINA. Please stop. I cant bear to twist anyone's wrist; but I must if you dont let the pistol go. THE MAN. _[letting Tarleton take it from him]_ All right: I'm done. Couldnt even do that job decently. Thats a clerk all over. Very well: send for your damned police and make an end of it. I'm accustomed to prison from nine to six: I daresay I can stand it from six to nine as well. TARLETON. Dont swear. Thats a lady. _[He throws the pistol on the writing table]._