BOB (hopelessly). Oh, Jerry, I believe I'm in the devil of a hole.
GERALD. You haven't called me "Jerry" since we were at school.
BOB. You got me out of holes then—damn you! and you were my younger brother. Oh, Jerry, get me out of this one.
GERALD. But, of course. (Firmly, as if a little nervous of a scene from BOB) My dear Bob, you're as right as anything. You've got nothing on earth to worry about. At the worst it's only a question of money, and we can always put that right somehow.
BOB. I'm not sure that it is only a question of money.
GERALD (frightened). What do you mean? (Turning away with a laugh) You're talking nonsense.
BOB. Gerald, Marcus is a wrong un. (Fiercely) An out-and-out wrong un.
GERALD. The only time I saw him he looked like it.
BOB. God knows what he's let me in for.
GERALD. You mean money?