HEGAN. I see, my dear, that you are frightfully overwrought, and that you are making yourself ill. Can't you imagine what it means to me to have you acting in this way? Here I am at one of the gravest crises of my life; I am working day and night, under frightful strain... I have hardly slept six hours in the past three days. And here, when I get a chance for a moment's rest, you come and put me through such an ordeal! You never think of that! LAURA. It's just what I do think of! Why must you torture yourself so? Why... HEGAN. My dear, I, too, am in the grip of the system you speak of. LAURA. But why? Why stay in it? Haven't we money enough yet? HEGAN. I have duties by which I am bound... interests that I must protect. How can I... [A knock.] Come in! ANDREWS. [Enters.] Here are the papers, Mr. Hegan. They must be signed now if they're to catch this mail. HEGAN. All right. [Sits at desk up stage and writes.] LAURA. [Stands by table, staring before her; picks up book carelessly from table.] "Ivanhoe"... [Fingers it idly and a slip of paper falls to floor. She picks it up, glances at it, then starts.] Oh!.. . [Reads.] "Memo to G., two hundred thousand on Court deal. GRIMES." Two hundred thousand on Court deal! [Glances back at her father; then replaces slip and lays book on table.] Father, have you read "Ivanhoe"? HEGAN. [Without looking up.] I'm reading it now. Why? Do you want it? LAURA. No; I just happened to notice it here. HEGAN. [Looks up sharply, watches her, then finishes writing.] There! [Rises; the sound of a motor heard.] What's that? ANDREWS. [Near window.] It's Mr. Grimes. LAURA. [Starting.] Grimes! HEGAN. [TO ANDREWS.] Bring him in. [ANDREWS exit.] LAURA. Father! Why do you bring that man here? HEGAN. I'll not do it again, dear. I didn't realize. He happened to be in the neighborhood... LAURA. I won't meet him! HEGAN. [Putting his arm about her.] Very well, dear; come away. Try to stop worrying yourself now, for the love of me... [Leads her off left.] ANDREWS. [At window.] This way, Mr. Grimes. [GRIMES enters; a powerfully built, broad-shouldered man of about fifty, with a massive jaw, covered with a scrubby beard; the face of a bulldog; a grim, masterful man, who never speaks except when he has to. He enters and seats himself in a chair by the table.] Will you have a cigar? [Grimes takes a cigar, without comment, and chews on it; sits, staring in front of him.] Mr. Hegan will be here directly, Sir. [He nods, and ANDREWS exit. GRIMES continues to chew and stare in front of him. He is not under the necessity of making superfluous motions.] HEGAN. [Enters left.] Hello, Grimes! GRIMES. Hello! HEGAN. [Betraying anxiety.] Well? GRIMES. It's done. HEGAN. What? GRIMES. It's done. HEGAN. Good! [Grimes nods.] How did you manage it? GRIMES. [Grimly.] I put my hand on 'em! HEGAN. Which one? Porter? [GRIMES nods.] Oh, the old hypocrite! What did you offer him? Cash? [GRIMES shakes his head slowly.] What?