Ste. No, I'm not. Marriage isn't a laughing matter, I know.
Walter. Won't you give me your answer, Mr. Verity?
Ste. Yes. (He rises, knocks at his pipe in the grate, puts it on the mantelpiece and goes himself to the door left. His deliberate movements cause Walter an agony, of which Stephen is quite aware. Stephen opens the door and calls.) Lucy!
Lucy (off l.). Yes.
Ste. Come in here. (He leaves the door open and goes below door. Enter Lucy Verity. She is twenty-one, pretty, dressed in a skirt and blouse, pointing to a very modest dress allowance. Her hair is plainly dressed. Obviously her father is her master, but she is not without indications of a will of her own. Walter rises as she enters.) Here's a friend of yours. Tells me he wants to marry you.
(Lucy crosses r. of table.)
Lucy (anxiously). Yes, father.
Ste. It's true, then? (Motions her to sit.)
Lucy. Yes. (Sits r. of table.)
Ste. Well, listen to me. He's a curate. Curates always marry young and have enormous families on no income. (Walter makes an attempt to protest; Stephen proceeds unmoved.) I advise you not to marry him. If he wants a wife, he'll not go begging one for long. There's always crowds of silly girls ready to help a chap to button his collar behind.