At this moment phoebe, the middle aged parlour-maid comes in, tray in hand. Like an expert fisherman mr. voysey once more lets loose the thread of the conversation.
mr. voysey. D'you want to clear?
phoebe. It doesn't matter, sir.
mr. voysey. No, go on . . go on.
So mary, the young housemaid, comes in as well, and the two start to clear the table. All of which fidgets poor mr. booth considerably. He sits shrivelled up in the armchair by the fire; and now mr. voysey attends to him.
mr. voysey. What d'you want with high interest at all . . you never spend half your income?
mr. george booth. I like to feel that my money is doing some good in the world. These mines are very useful things and forty two per cent is pleasing.
mr. voysey. You're an old gambler.
mr. george booth. [propitiatingly.] Ah, but then I've you to advise me. I always do as you tell me in the end, now you can't deny that.
mr. voysey. The man who don't know must trust in the man who does! [He yawns again.]