booth. I should hope so.
edward. [dwelling on the words.] It's stolen money.
booth. [bubbling with distress.] I say, what ought I to do?
trenchard. Do . . my dear Booth? Nothing.
edward. [with great indignation.] Trenchard, we owe reparation—
trenchard. [readily.] To whom? From which account was Booth's money taken?
edward. [side tracked for the moment.] I don't know . . I daresay from none directly.
trenchard. Very well then!
edward. [grieved.] Trenchard, you argue as he did—