mr. booth. What'll happen if I don't.
edward. What do you suppose I'm doing here now?
mr. booth. [as if he were being asked a riddle.] I don't know.
edward. [earnestly.] I'm trying to straighten things a little. I'm trying to undo what my father did . . to do again what he undid. It's a poor dull sort of work now . . throwing penny after penny hardly earned into the pit of our deficit. But I've been doing that for what it's worth in the time that was left to me . . till this should happen. I never thought you'd bring it to pass. I can continue to do that if you choose . . until the next smash comes. I'm pleased to call this my duty. [He searches mr. booth's face and finds there only disbelief and fear. He bursts out.] Oh, why won't you believe me? It can't hurt you to believe it.
mr. booth. You must admit, Edward, it isn't easy to believe anything in this office . . just for the moment.
edward. [bowing to the extreme reasonableness of this.] I suppose not. I can prove it to you. I'll take you through the books . . you won't understand them . . but I could prove it.
mr. booth. I think I'd rather not. D'you think I ought to hold any further communication with you at all? [and at this he takes his hat.]
edward. [with a little explosion of contemptuous anger.] Certainly not. Prosecute . . prosecute!
mr. booth. [with dignity.] Don't lose your temper. You know it's my place to be angry with you.
edward. I beg your pardon. [then he is elaborately explanatory.] I shall be grateful if you'll prosecute.