[Cautiously.] I admit——
Philip.
[Breaking in.] Oh, I don't pretend that there haven't been moments in my years of stress and struggle when I've been tempted to join the gaudy, cackling fowl whose feathers I flatter myself I've plucked pretty thoroughly in my book! But I've resisted the devil by prayers and fasting; and, by George, sir, I wouldn't swap my modest victory for the vogue of the biggest boomster in England! [Boisterously.] Ha, ha, ha! Whoop! [Seizing Roope and shaking him.] Dare to preach your gospel to me now, you arch-apostle of quackery and self-advertisement!
Roope.
[Peevishly, releasing himself.] Upon my word, Phil——!
[The bell rings again.
Philip.
The cook! [To Roope, seeing that he is putting on his muffler.] Don't go.
Roope.
I must. [Taking up his overcoat.] I merely ran along to shake hands with you, and I'm sorry I took the trouble. [Philip helps him into his overcoat laughingly.] Thanks.