Mrs. Munning. Have you no sense at all? Couldn't you tell her the roses were coming? Paul. They're not. Mrs. Munning. Not coming? And me just telling her they were all you went to Bollington for! Paul. You shouldn't tell her lies. You know they weren't all I went for. Mrs. Munning. She liked to think they were. You've got a memory like a sieve. Paul. I didn't forget. I went to the shop and asked the price. They wanted sixpence each. Sixpence for a single rose. Have you any idea what a lot of roses it takes to make a decent-looking bunch? Mrs. Munning. Will you never get it into your thick head that it's worth spending money to gain money? Paul. You've got the spending habit lately. There's no need to spend for the sake of spending. I'm engaged to Virginia. What more do you want? Mrs. Munning. I want you to keep engaged till you're married. You're growing careless and neglecting her. Paul. Neglecting! I gave her a kiss just now. Mrs. Munning. That cost you nothing. What made you stop putting flowers in her room? Paul. I'm not marrying a wife to stand at her heels with silly flowers. And there isn't a woman on earth worth buying roses for at sixpence a bloom. Mrs. Munning. Virginia's five hundred a year's worth it. Paul. It's not. Selling flowers at that price is robbery, and I'll be robbed by no one. Look at Joe Wrigley. Mrs. Munning. That won't last long. Paul. You're right. It won't. Zack will be married on Wednesday and off to Canada on Saturday. Just let Joe Wrigley come here after that. I'll teach him something. Mrs. Munning. You've got their tickets? Paul (_showing them_). I told you I had. Mrs. Munning. Steerage, I see. Paul. Of course they're steerage. Why, do you know we've to give them a matter of ten pounds before they'll let them load? Mrs. Munning. Well, we have to start them off with something, Paul. Paul. Ten pounds isn't something. It's a thundering lot. Mrs. Munning. In a good cause. Paul. A good cause is a better cause when it's cheap, and this is coming out a bit expensive. (_Enter Sally._) Mrs. Munning. What is it, Sally? Sally. The door bell, Mrs. Munning. (_Sally crosses and exit._) Paul. An order, if we're lucky. Mrs. Munning. Well, you are lucky, lately, aren't you? Everything you can think of _'_s going right, (_Sally re-enters._) Sally. It's Mr. Wrigley and some friends. (_Wrigley enters with Thomas Mowatt and Harry Shoe-bridge. Mowatt is a fat, red-faced dairyman and Shoe-bridge is a farmer, tall, with brown face and mutton-chop whiskers. Wrigley has a large jug of ale and puts it on table._) (_Exit Sally._) Wrigley. Good evening, Mrs. Munning. Come in, Thomas, Harry. You see, Mrs. Munning, you've been so amazing good to me lately over a bit of supper at nights that I thought I'd bring a friend or two this time to test the vittles. Mrs. Munning. You----