MANSON [calmly]. Numberless millions.
BISHOP. Numberless mil . . . ! [He drops his fork.] My dear sir, absurd! . . . Why, the place must be a palace—fit for a king!
MANSON. It is!
BISHOP. Do you mean to tell me that one man alone, on his own naked credit, could obtain numberless millions for such an object as that? How could you possibly get them together?
MANSON. They came freely from every quarter of the world.
BISHOP. On the security of your own name alone?
MANSON. No other, I assure you.
BISHOP. For Heaven's sake, tell me all about it! What sort of a place is it?
MANSON [seriously]. Are you quite sure you can hear?
BISHOP. Perhaps your voice is not quite so clear as it was.
However . . .