alice. What about his proposal?
edward. That needs no answer.
alice. Yes, it does. I know the temptation to hit back at him mock-heroically . . it's natural. Well, we'll consider it done. But he's a silly old man and he doesn't know what he's talking about. I think we can bargain with him to keep the firm going somehow . . and if we can we must.
At this edward makes a last attempt to abandon himself to his troubles.
edward. No, Alice, no . . let it end here. It has done for me . . I'm broken. And of course we can't be married . . that's absurd.
alice. [with firmness enough for two.] We shall be married. And nothing's broken . . except our pride and righteousness . . and several other things we're better without. And now we must break our dignity in to bargaining.
edward. [struggling in the toils of virtue.] But it'll be so useless. Colpus'll be round in a day or two to make his conditions . . he'll tell some intimate friend. They'll all come after their money like wasps after honey. And if they know I won't lift a finger in my own defence . . what sort of mercy will they have?
alice. [triumphantly completing her case.] No, Edward, if you surrender yourself entirely, you'll find them powerless against you. You see, you had something to hope or fear from Mr. Booth . . you hoped in your heart he'd end your trouble. But when you've conquered that last little atom of the selfishness which gets in one's way, I think you'll find you can do what you wish with these selfish men. [and she adds fervently.] Oh, it's a power so seldom used. But the man who is able, and cares deeply, and yet has nothing to hope or fear is all powerful . . even in little things.
edward. Will nothing ever happen to set me free? Shall I never be able to rest for a moment . . turn round and say I've succeeded or I've failed?
alice. That isn't what matters.