Edmund. Are you never out of form, Mr. Metherell? Jack. I play at the top of whatever form I'm in. Edmund. Couldn't you make it convenient to be in particularly bad form to-day? After your long journey to and from Birchester yesterday, a tired feeling's only natural. Jack. I'm feeling very fit. Do you know you're asking me to sell a match? Austin (_firmly_). Yes. Jack. I couldn't square it with my conscience. I really couldn't, Mr. Whitworth. I know it means a lot to you, but I'm not that sort, and you ought to know it. Austin. Your conscience might be--salved. Jack. Salved? Edmund. Yes. Just let us know how much you consider will cover all moral and intellectual damages, will you? Jack (_to Austin_). I'm glad it wasn't you who spoke that word. Austin. I endorse it, Metherell. I told you last night how I stood. The loss of to-day's match may involve my ruin. Jack. As bad as that? I'm sorry. Austin. Man, can't you see I'm not romancing? Do you think I'd come to you with this if I wasn't desperate? Jack. It's a pretty desperate thing to do. Suppose I blabbed? Austin. Yes. There's that. It ought to show you just how desperate I am. You know, and no one better, how this Club's been run. You know there's blackguardism in the game, but Blackton hasn't stooped. Whatever other clubs have done, Blackton has stood for sport, the straight, the honest game. The Blackton Club's my life's work, Metherell. I might have done a nobler thing, but there it is. I chose the Club. I gave it life and kept it living, and the time's come now when I can't keep it living any more. Twice top of the League and once winners of the Cup. It's had a great past, Metherell, an honourable past. It's earned the right to live, and now it's in your hands to kill the Blackton Club and end the thing I've fostered till it's seemed I only lived for that one thing. It isn't much to ask. A little compromise to save the Club you've played for all these years, to save the club and me. Jack. I cannot do it, Mr. Whitworth. (_Austin sinks hopelessly into armchair._) Edmund (_briskly_). Now you referred to your conscience, Mr. Metherell. My experience is that when a man does that he's open to negotiation. Jack. Money won't buy my conscience, sir. Edmund (_half mockingly_). Well, are you open to barter? Jack. No. The thing I want from you is no more to be bought than my conscience is. Austin (_without hope_). You do want something from me, then? Jack. I want to marry Elsie. Edmund (_shocked_). My God! Austin. Does she know? (_Rising._) Jack. Does she know? She says we're to be married and that's all about it, but I'm old-fashioned and I want your leave. Edmund. My niece and a professional footballer! Austin. Steady, Edmund. Now, Metherell, just let us see where we stand. You propose to help Birchester to beat Blackton. Jack. I'll do my best. Austin. And you think I'll let you ruin me first and marry my daughter afterwards?