Garside's Career: A Comedy in Four Acts

by Harold Brighouse

Peter. I can do what I like with them.

Glad. Why didn't you go?

Peter. You know why not.

Glad. (sitting on Chesterfield). Do I?

Peter (standing centre). Every night I can make myself the master of a mob. It's no new joy to me to feel I've got them there in the hollow of my hand. I can't speak with you every night. That's why I didn't go.

Glad. But is it wise?

Peter. Wise?

Glad. You mustn't spoil your chances, Mr. Garside.

Peter. I won't spoil my chances of speaking with you.

Glad. But if the crowd makes a disturbance? That man's malicious. He'll stir them up to mischief.