EDWARD. I suppose their money means such happiness to them as they understand. HUGH. Then we want another currency. We must learn to express ourselves in terms of vitality. There can be no other standard of worth in life, can there? I never believed that money was valuable. I remember once giving a crossing sweeper a sovereign. The sovereign was nothing. But the sensation I gave him was an intrinsically valuable thing. _He is fearfully pleased with his essay in philosophy._ EDWARD. He could buy other sensations with the sovereign. HUGH. But none like the first. [_then the realities of life overwhelm him again._] And yet . . we're slaves! Beatrice won't let me go until we're each certain of two hundred a year. And she's quite right . . I should only get into debt. You know that two fifty a year of mine is a hundred and eighty now. EDWARD. [_mischievous._] Why would you invest sensationally? HUGH. [_with great seriousness._] I put money into things which I know ought to succeed . . _The telephone rings._ EDWARD _speaks through it_. EDWARD. Certainly . . bring him in. [_then to his brother, who sits on the table idly disarranging everything._] You'll have to go now, Hugh. HUGH. [_shaking his head gloomily._] You're one of the few people I can talk to, Edward. EDWARD. I like listening. HUGH. [_as much cheered as surprised._] Do you! I suppose I talk a lot of rot . . but . . _In comes old_ MR. GEORGE BOOTH, _older too in looks than he was eighteen months back. Very dandyishly dressed, he still seems by no means so happy as his clothes might be making him._ MR. BOOTH. 'Ullo, Hugh! I thought I should find you, Edward. EDWARD. [_formally._] Good morning, Mr. Booth. HUGH. [_as he collects his hat, his coat, his various properties._] Well . . Beatrice and I go down to Chislehurst to-morrow. I say . . d'you know that old Nursie is furious with you about something? EDWARD. [_shortly._] Yes, I know. Good bye. HUGH. How are you? _He launches this enquiry at_ MR. BOOTH _with great suddenness just as he leaves the room. The old gentleman jumps; then jumps again at the slam of the door. And then he frowns at_ EDWARD _in a frightened sort of way_. EDWARD. Will you come here . . or will you sit by the fire? MR. BOOTH. This'll do. I shan't detain you long. _He takes the chair by the table and occupies the next minute or two, carefully disposing of his hat and gloves._ EDWARD. Are you feeling all right again? MR. BOOTH. A bit dyspeptic. How are you? EDWARD. Quite well, thanks. MR. BOOTH. I'm glad . . I'm glad. [_he now proceeds to cough a little, hesitating painfully._] I'm afraid this isn't very pleasant business I've come upon. EDWARD. D'you want to go to Law with anyone? MR. BOOTH. No . . oh, no. I'm getting too old to quarrel. EDWARD. A pleasant symptom. MR. BOOTH. [_with a final effort._] I mean to withdraw my securities from the custody of your firm . . [_and he adds apologetically_] with the usual notice, of course.