COKESON. Dear me! I can't tell you that.
SWEEDLE comes back. He crosses to the outer office and passes through into it, with a quizzical look at Cokeson, carefully leaving the door an inch or two open.
COKESON. [Fortified by this look] This won't do, you know, this won't do at all. Suppose one of the partners came in!
An incoherent knocking and chuckling is heard from the outer
door of the outer office.
SWEEDLE. [Putting his head in] There's some children outside here.
RUTH. They're mine, please.
SWEEDLE. Shall I hold them in check?
RUTH. They're quite small, sir. [She takes a step towards COKESON]
COKESON. You mustn't take up his time in office hours; we're a clerk short as it is.
RUTH. It's a matter of life and death.