Wilhelm. Oh, they never go together--Herr Kurt wanted to countermand the invitation--because--(Indicates Robert)
Trast. (Gives him money) Good! That's all!
Wilhelm. Nothing further, sir?
Trast. Go.
(Wilhelm bows and goes out)
Trast. Come here, my boy.
Robert. What do you want?
Trast. What do I want? You know I never want anything. These things don't affect me. But the question is: What do you want here--in this house?
Robert. I want to settle my account.
Trast. Of course--we know that--But, inasmuch as you are willing to forego the generous handshake that the workman usually gets at this proud moment, I should think you would send the accounts to the office--and--(With gesture of finality)