JOHN. But you must know. I'm absolutely in his power. He can ruin me if he likes.
CHARLIE. How?
JOHN. It's my dye works, Charlie. Jabez finances it. No one knows it's not my own, but if he cut off supplies I'd have to close it down to-morrow, and call my creditors together. I make a living out of it, but the capital's all his. I couldn't meet a tenth of my liabilities without his aid.
CHARLIE. Never mind, dad. (Sits above table.) We'll fight it together, shoulder to shoulder, you and I against the world. What does poverty matter if we can be independent?
JOHN (terrified). No, no. You can't mean that. You can't mean to bring disgrace upon your father's grey hairs. Think of my position, Charlie—a public man in my own way; not such a big pot as Jabez, but I have my feelings just the same. The Black-more Dye Works is a small enough concern compared with Jabez's Chemical Works, but it's meant the world to me. Every one thinks the business is mine. What will people say when they learn that I'm practically penniless?
CHARLIE. What does it matter what people say?
JOHN (ignoring him). And Jabez is a man of his word. He means it. He's never threatened to do this before.
CHARLIE. And what makes him do it now?
JOHN. Oh, you must do what he wants, Charlie.
CHARLIE. But why does he want it? Why won't he see that I'm unfit for the position he offers me? I can't and I won't fill it to his orders. Oh, it's my own fault, I suppose. He's quite right. I'm soft—too soft for this horrible, inhuman world. I yielded at first because I hoped to do some good, and I've gone on yielding ever since. It seemed so easy to acquiesce and to hope for the best. And this is where my cursed weakness has landed me.