I have the refusal of two of the oldest family mansions in England.
One historic owner can't afford to keep all the rooms dusted: the other can't afford the death duties.
What do you say now?
VIOLET.
Of course it is very scandalous; but surely you know that the Government will sooner or later put a stop to all these Socialistic attacks on property.
MALONE. [grinning] D'y' think they'll be able to get that done before I buy the house—or rather the abbey?
They're both abbeys.
VIOLET. [putting that aside rather impatiently] Oh, well, let us talk sense, Mr Malone.
You must feel that we haven't been talking sense so far.
MALONE.
I can't say I do.
I mean all I say.
VIOLET.
Then you don't know Hector as I do.
He is romantic and faddy—he gets it from you, I fancy—and he wants a certain sort of wife to take care of him.
Not a faddy sort of person, you know.
MALONE.
Somebody like you, perhaps?
VIOLET. [quietly] Well, yes.
But you cannot very well ask me to undertake this with absolutely no means of keeping up his position.
MALONE. [alarmed] Stop a bit, stop a bit.
Where are we getting to?
I'm not aware that I'm asking you to undertake anything.
VIOLET.
Of course, Mr Malone, you can make it very difficult for me to speak to you if you choose to misunderstand me.
MALONE. [half bewildered] I don't wish to take any unfair advantage; but we seem to have got off the straight track somehow.
Straker, with the air of a man who has been making haste, opens the little gate, and admits Hector, who, snorting with indignation, comes upon the lawn, and is making for his father when Violet, greatly dismayed, springs up and intercepts him.
Straker doer not wait; at least he does not remain visibly within earshot.
VIOLET.
Oh, how unlucky!
Now please, Hector, say nothing.
Go away until I have finished speaking to your father.
HECTOR. [inexorably] No, Violet: I mean to have this thing out, right away. [He puts her aside; passes her by; and faces his father, whose cheeks darken as his Irish blood begins to simmer]. Dad: you've not played this hand straight.
MALONE.
Hwat d'y'mean?
HECTOR.
You've opened a letter addressed to me.
You've impersonated me and stolen a march on this lady.
That's dishonorable.
MALONE. [threateningly] Now you take care what you're saying, Hector.
Take care, I tell you.
HECTOR.
I have taken care.
I am taking care.
I'm taking care of my honor and my position in English society.
MALONE. [hotly] Your position has been got by my money: do you know that?
HECTOR.
Well, you've just spoiled it all by opening that letter.
A letter from an English lady, not addressed to you—a confidential letter! a delicate letter! a private letter opened by my father!
That's a sort of thing a man can't struggle against in England.