Bronson. I dare say we would contract for a quarter of a million cakes of soap.
Martin. (Amazed) A quarter of a million!
Bronson. (Misunderstanding him) Of course we might do a little better if we could settle the matter at once.
Martin. I should have to consult my son first.
Bronson. (Rising) Oh, then perhaps I ought to go see him?
Martin. (Rising) Not at all—not at all. I’ll attend to it.
Bronson. But we thought that you would have full power.
Martin. As a matter of courtesy I should like to talk things over with my own boy——
Bronson. But you control the product?
Martin. Bronson, you can trust me to handle this thing.