edward. [his face cloudy.] An outlaw's!
beatrice. [whimsical, after a moment.] I meant that. At all events you've not had to be your father's right arm . . or the instrument of justice . . or a representative of the people . . or anything second hand of that sort, have you?
edward. [with sudden excitement.] Do you know what I discovered the other day about [he nods at the portrait.] . . him?
beatrice. [enquiring calmly.] Innocence or guilt?
edward. He saved his firm once . . that was true. A most capable piece of heroism. Then, fifteen years afterwards . . he started again.
beatrice. [greatly interested.] Did he now?
edward. One can't believe it was merely through weakness . .
beatrice. [with artistic enthusiasm.] Of course not. He was a great financier . . a man of imagination. He had to find scope for his abilities or die. He despised these fat little clients living so snugly on their unearned incomes . . and put them and their money to the best use he could.
edward. [shaking his head solemnly.] That's all a fine phrase for robbery.
beatrice turns her clever face to him and begins to follow up her subject keenly.