beatrice. [with reverence in her voice now.] That should silence a bench of judges. Well . . well . .
Her sewing finished, she stuffs the things into her basket, gets up in her abrupt unconventional way and goes without another word. Her brain is busy with the Voysey Inheritance. edward and alice are left in chairs by the fire, facing each other like an old domestic couple.
edward. Stay and speak to me.
alice. I want to. Something more serious has happened since dinner.
edward. I'm glad you can see that.
alice. What is it?
edward. [with sudden exultation.] The smash has come . . and not by my fault. Old George Booth—
alice. Has he been here?
edward. Can you imagine it? That old man forced me into telling him the truth. I told him to take what money of his there was, and prosecute. He won't prosecute, but he bargains to take the money . . and further to bleed us, sovereign by sovereign, as I earn sovereign by sovereign with the sweat of my soul. I'll see him in his Christian Heaven first . . the Jew!
alice. [keeping her head.] You can't reason with him?