CHARLIE. Look here, suppose I let you force my hand. Suppose I married Rosie under compulsion, what sort of a time do you fancy she'd have? What's to prevent me taking it out of you by cruelty to the daughter you love?
JABEZ (recovering his temper). No you don't, my boy. It's very clever of you. Upon my word, I'm glad to hear you talk like that. After all, you've the makings of a business man about you, but I'm too old a bird to be caught by a bluff like that. You know very well you're talking through your hat. You couldn't do it. Besides, even if I wasn't sure of you I'm sure of Rosie. I'm a long way more frightened for you than I am for her, my boy. She's managed me all her life, and if there's going to be any bullying when you're married, take my word, it's not you that'll do it. You see, I know Rosie.
CHARLIE. Very well then. You compel me to take other measures.
JABEZ. What, still fighting? You're getting quite pugnacious, Charlie. (Crossing to cupboard l. and unlocking it.)
CHARLIE. Don't laugh at me. I won't be laughed at.
JABEZ. Then don't make yourself ridiculous, my boy. Every man feels like you do when he's booked his passage. But most of us have it out with ourselves. We don't talk about it, but we all get a fit of funk and want to back out if we can. It's a natural reaction. Come, pull yourself together, Charlie. Have a whisky and soda. (He takes a decanter, glass and syphon from cupboard and places on top of it.)
CHARLIE (for a moment half laughing at himself). You make very certain that I'm not an embryonic wife-beater.
JABEZ (with the decanter in his hand). You won't?
CHARLIE. No thanks. (Jabez mixes a drink for himself.)
JABEZ (meditatively). Yes, I think a desk will do very well in place of that table.