MR. VOYSEY. Oh . . why is it so hard for a man to see clearly beyond the letter of the law! Will you consider a moment, Edward, the position in which I found myself? Was I to see my father ruined and disgraced without lifting a finger to help him? . . not to mention the interest of the clients. I paid back to the man who would have lost most by my father's mistakes every penny of his money. He never knew the danger he'd been in . . never passed an uneasy moment about it. It was I who lay awake. I have now somewhere a letter from that man to my father thanking him effusively for the way in which he'd conducted some matter. It comforted my poor father. Well, Edward, I stepped outside the letter of the law to do that. Was that right or wrong? EDWARD. In its result, sir, right. MR. VOYSEY. Judge me by the result. I took the risk of failure . . I should have suffered. I could have kept clear of the danger if I'd liked. EDWARD. But that's all past. The thing that concerns me is what you are doing now. MR. VOYSEY. [_gently reproachful now._] My boy, you must trust me a little. It's all very well for you to come in at the end of the day and criticise. But I who have done the day's work know how that work had to be done. And here's our firm, prosperous, respected and without a stain on its honour. That's the main point, isn't it? And I think that achievement should earn me the right to be trusted a little . . shouldn't it? EDWARD. [_quite irresponsive to this pathetic appeal._] Look here, sir, I'm dismissing from my mind all prejudice about speaking the truth . . acting upon one's instructions, behaving as any honest firm of solicitors must behave . . MR. VOYSEY. You need not, I tell no unnecessary lies. If a man of any business ability gives me definite instructions about his property, I follow them. EDWARD. Father, no unnecessary lies! MR. VOYSEY. Well, my friend, go and tell Mrs. Murberry that four hundred and twenty pounds of her income hasn't for the last eight years come from the place she thinks it's come from and see how happy you'll make her. EDWARD. But is that four hundred and twenty a year as safe to come to her as it was before you meddled with the capital? MR. VOYSEY. I see no reason why-- EDWARD. What's the security? MR. VOYSEY. [_putting his coping stone on the argument._] My financial ability. EDWARD. [_really not knowing whether to laugh or cry._] Why, it seems as if you were satisfied with this state of things. MR. VOYSEY. Edward, you really are most unsympathetic and unreasonable. I give all I have to the firm's work . . my brain . . my energies . . my whole life. I can't turn my abilities into hard cash at par . . I wish I could. Do you suppose that if I could establish every one of these people with a separate and consistent bank balance to-morrow that I shouldn't do it? Do you suppose that it's a pleasure . . that it's relaxation to have these matters continually on one's mind? Do you suppose--?