Hargrave. Hargrave, Jack, Hargrave! And until tonight I must be known by no other name.
Jack. Please don't call me Jack, father. It sounds so unartificial. And to think that I who have always perceived the immense superiority of a number, should have been endowed with a monosyllable like that.
Hargrave. You had a number once, Jack.
Jack. A number! Is it true, father, or do my ears deceive me?
Hargrave (piously). I shall endeavor to spare your feelings as far as possible. A young man tasting too soon of the bitter fruits of life is apt to form a very wrong impression of this world of ours, and the inhabitants above it.
Jack. Oh, people are above everything in this world, father, and in the next too, I guess. But have I got a number?
Hargrave. How little you understand! You think that I refer to some social distinction, some news of your misguided parents. I refer to your real parents, Jack. An immoral longing I have never had.
Jack. Oh, everyone's as moral and immoral as he knows how to be, father.
Hargrave (expostulating). Jack! Jack!
Jack. How often must I tell you not to call me that, sir. Even John were better.