CHARLEY. [crossly.] What’s the matter with him?
LESLIE. He never is, that’s all.
CHARLEY. He isn’t exactly boisterous. He nearly emigrated once, he tells me.
TENNANT. [coming forward.] Why didn’t he quite?
LESLIE. Not enough devil in him. Hundreds of ’em almost go.
CHARLEY. Did you?
LESLIE. [with energy.] I’m comfortable enough where I am. I’ve been telling this chap here he’s a fool, but he won’t believe me. He says he’d rather be a fool in the Colonies than a wise man here. Don’t know what he means quite, but it sounds rather smart. [Waving his pipe oracularly as he faces the three men.] I’ve known lots of chaps who’ve wanted to go. The guv’nor is unpleasant or there’s too much overtime or they get jealous of their girl or something of that sort and off they must go. I’ve known a few who went—and sorry they were, too. You can’t do anything out there. Read the emigration books, read your papers. Failure all along the line. Market overcrowded. Only capitalists need apply—the Colonies don’t want you—
CHARLEY. Neither does England—
LESLIE. Of course not but [waving his arm impressively] but you’re here and got something. That’s the whole point. My advice is—stick where you are. Tennant’s a stupid ass to give up a decent berth; he deserves to fail. Of course, we should all like to see the world. I should—