EDWARD. This is business and more than business, Booth. I choose now, because it is something I wish to say to the family, not write to each individually . . and it will be difficult to get us all together again. BOOTH. [_determined at any rate to give his sanction._] Well, Trenchard, as Edward is in the position of trustee--executor . . I don't know your terms . . I suppose there's nothing more to be said. TRENCHARD. I don't see what your objection is. BOOTH. [_with some superiority._] Don't you? I should not have called myself a sentimental man, but . . EDWARD. You had better stay, Denis; you represent Ethel. TREGONING. [_who has not heard the beginning of this._] Why? . . HONOR _has obediently come down from her room. She is pale and thin, shaken with grief and worn out besides; for needless to say the brunt of her father's illness, the brunt of everything has been on her. Six weeks nursing, part of it hopeless, will exhaust anyone. Her handkerchief to her eyes and every minute or two she cascades tears._ EDWARD _goes and affectionately puts his arm round her_. EDWARD. My dear Honor, I am sorry to be so . . so merciless. There! . . there! [_he hands her into the room; then shuts the door; then turns and once more surveys the family, who this time mostly return the compliment. Then he says shortly._] I think you might all sit down. [_But he goes close to his mother and speaks very distinctly, very kindly._] Mother, we're all going to have a little necessary talk over matters . . now, because it's most convenient. I hope it won't . . I hope you don't mind. Will you come to the table? MRS. VOYSEY _looks up as if understanding more than he says_. MRS. VOYSEY. Edward . . EDWARD. Yes, mother? BOOTH. [_commandingly._] You'll sit here, mother, of course. _He places her in her accustomed chair at the foot of the table. One by one the others sit down_, EDWARD _apparently last. But then he discovers that_ HUGH _has lost himself in a corner of the room and is gazing into vacancy_. EDWARD. Hugh, would you mind attending? HUGH. What is it? EDWARD. There's a chair. HUGH _takes it. Then for a minute--while_ EDWARD _is trying to frame in coherent sentences what he must say to them--for a minute there is silence, broken only by_ HONOR'S _sniffs, which culminate at last in a noisy little cascade of tears_. BOOTH. Honor, control yourself. _And to emphasise his own perfect control he helps himself majestically to a glass of sherry. Then says_ . . BOOTH. Well, Edward? EDWARD. I'll come straight to the point which concerns you. Our father's will gives certain sums to you all . . the gross amount something over a hundred thousand pounds. There will be no money. _He can get no further than the bare statement, which is received only with varying looks of bewilderment, until_ MRS. VOYSEY, _discovering nothing from their faces, breaks this second silence_. MRS. VOYSEY. I didn't hear. HUGH. [_in his mother's ear._] Edward says there's no money.