Walter. Oh, we fellows who go into the Church don't know much. You told me yourself we go there because we're chicken-hearted fools without an ounce of sense or fight in us.
Bam. Can't you make him cut the cackle, Verity?
Walter. Cackling's a professional failing, Mr. Bamford. We get the talking habit in the pulpit.
Bam. You're not in the pulpit now.
Walter. No, sir. In the pulpit I'm in good company—my own.
Bam. What the——
Walter. In this room I'm in the company of certain members of a rascally syndicate who hope to buy the Polygon cheap from Sir Charles and sell dear to the town when they've carefully engineered a public demand.
Smiths. Who told you?
Ste. Tch, Smithson! Where the devil did you raise this cock and bull story?
Walter. Oh, I don't think it was the devil. On the contrary, in fact, Mr. Verity.