Mary. (Entering from door upper L.) You wanted me, Mr. Martin?
Rodney. (Going to her, she crosses to C.) Mary!
Martin. Wait a minute. My precious son informs me that you and he intend to marry.
Mary. (Timidly) Oh, sir——
Martin. And I wish to tell you that if he marries you, he doesn’t get one penny of my money, and that means he’ll starve.
Mary. Then at least we can starve together. (They hold hands)
Rodney. Mary!
Martin. Making a grand-stand play, eh? You think I’m too fond of him not to relent? Well, you’re wrong. Neither of you can get a nickel from me: you can both starve together.
Rodney. We won’t starve.