mr. booth. [more puzzled than ever.] There's something in this which I don't understand.
edward. [with deliberate unconcern.] Think it over.
mr. booth. [hesitating, fidgetting.] But surely I oughtn't to have to make up my mind! There must be a right or a wrong thing to do. Edward, can't you tell me?
edward. I'm prejudiced.
mr. booth. [angrily.] What do you mean by placing me in a dilemma? I believe you're simply trying to practise upon my goodness of heart. Certainly I ought to prosecute at once . . Oughtn't I? [then at the nadir of helplessness.] Can't I consult another solicitor?
edward. [his chin in the air.] Write to the Times about it!
mr. booth. [shocked and grieved at his attitude.] Edward, how can you be so cool and heartless?
edward. [changing his tone.] D'you think I shan't be glad to sleep at nights?
mr. booth. Perhaps you'll be put in prison?