Daniel. I'm feeling rather exhausted.
(Oliver goes to side table, mixes a drink and gives it to him.)
(Weakly) Thank you very much.
Oliver (C., fingering arm-chair). I say, uncle—can you—er—spare me a few minutes?
Daniel (apprehensively). Yes—what is it?
Oliver (awkwardly). Well, it's like this—I know it's rather bad form to talk about your will——
Daniel. Yes, it is.
Oliver. But I feel I must. I——
Daniel (hurriedly). Wait until another time, don't you worry yourself about it now. You wait until I'm dead.
Oliver (firmly). No, I must get it over—I want to ask you to leave your money to one of the others and not to me at all. It was awfully decent of you to single me out and it bucked me up a lot to feel that you thought well of me, but now—well, I'm earning steadily and I really don't need a lot, in fact, it might do me harm to feel that I needn't work—also it would seem frightfully caddish to the others for me to have known all along that I was going to get it. Don't you see what I'm driving at?