DIVINE: Wads of it. I should expect Ulsa to go down town in sections every morning--in two Rolls Royces. I have also a kiddy-car and a converted tank. I have seats at the opera-- ULSA: (_Sullenly_) I can’t sleep except in a box. And I’ve heard that you were cashiered from your club. MR. ICKY: A cashier? ... DIVINE: (_Hanging his head_) I was cashiered. ULSA: What for? DIVINE: (_Almost inaudibly_) I hid the polo balls one day for a joke. MR. ICKY: Is your mind in good shape? DIVINE: (_Gloomily_) Fair. After all what is brilliance? Merely the tact to sow when no one is looking and reap when every one is. MR. ICKY: Be careful. ... I will not marry my daughter to an epigram.... DIVINE: (_More gloomily_) I assure you I’m a mere platitude. I often descend to the level of an innate idea. ULSA: (_Dully_) None of what you’re saying matters. I can’t marry a man who thinks it would be Jack. Why Frank would-- DIVINE: (_Interrupting_) Nonsense! ULSA: (_Emphatically_) You’re a fool! MR. ICKY: Tut-tut! ... One should not judge ... Charity, my girl. What was it Nero said?--“With malice toward none, with charity toward all--” PETER: That wasn’t Nero. That was John Drinkwater. MR. ICKY: Come! Who is this Frank? Who is this Jack? DIVINE: (_Morosely_) Gotch. ULSA: Dempsey. DIVINE: We were arguing that if they were deadly enemies and locked in a room together which one would come out alive. Now I claimed that Jack Dempsey would take one-- ULSA: (_Angrily_) Rot! He wouldn’t have a-- DIVINE: (_Quickly_) You win. ULSA: Then I love you again. MR. ICKY: So I’m going to lose my little daughter... ULSA: You’ve still got a houseful of children. (CHARLES, ULSA’S _brother, coming out of the cottage. He is dressed as if to go to sea; a coil of rope is slung about his shoulder and an anchor is hanging from his neck._) CHARLES: (_Not seeing them_) I’m going to sea! I’m going to sea! (_His voice is triumphant._) MR. ICKY: (_Sadly_) You went to seed long ago. CHARLES: I’ve been reading “Conrad.” PETER: (_Dreamily_) “Conrad,” ah! “Two Years Before the Mast,” by Henry James. CHARLES: What? PETER: Walter Pater’s version of “Robinson Crusoe.” CHARLES: (_To his feyther_) I can’t stay here and rot with you. I want to live my life. I want to hunt eels. MR. ICKY: I will be here... when you come back.... CHARLES: (_Contemptuously_) Why, the worms are licking their chops already when they hear your name. (_It will be noticed that some of the characters have not spoken for some time. It will improve the technique if they can be rendering a spirited saxophone number._) MR. ICKY: (_Mournfully_) These vales, these hills, these McCormick harvesters--they mean nothing to my children. I understand. CHARLES: (_More gently_) Then you’ll think of me kindly, feyther. To understand is to forgive. MR. ICKY: No...no....We never forgive those we can understand....We can only forgive those who wound us for no reason at all....