Pilling. You can tell that as well as me.
Vin. (impatiently). Yes, yes, but that's not the point. Doesn't your class feel what a privilege it is to have us living in your midst?
Pilling (earnestly). I'd be badly off without you, sir.
Vin. You'd be sorry to lose us, eh?
Walter. Of course he would. A gardener's no use if there's nothing to garden. Only Carrington's not a garden city. It's a manufacturing town.
Mont. (with back to fire, to Pilling). Supposing now you weren't a gardener?
Vin. Yes. What's the common view of us?
Pilling. Well, sir, it 'ud seem to me against nature if the town had no quality in it.
Vin. (turning triumphantly to Walter). You see? (Patronising Pilling.) You're perfectly right, Pilling. I've noticed it before. (Talking at the ladies.) The masses always have this instinctive clinging to their superiors. They know we're the source of all prosperity.
Pilling (shyly). There's queer talk, sometimes, sir. I know gentlemen are different from us, but there's men in this town wanting to tell me we're all born equal—asking your pardon, sir.