"You're puttin' down a lot of plant, Mr Darwen, making quite a new place of it."
"Yes, the old stuff is quite inadequate for our increasing load," Darwen leaned forward confidentially and spoke very low. "Do you know, Mr Donovan, I'm bringing to light some very funny things in these works."
"You don't say—" Mr Donovan's eyes were wide and his cheek was pale.
"Between ourselves, I've got almost clear proof that a considerable number of men who didn't exist were drawing regular weekly pay, and the plant—" he shrugged his shoulders.
"Never! Mr Darwen."
"Not a word! I don't want to make a scandal, but I can't have any unpleasantness on the council, so! of course, if it becomes necessary in self defence—"
"True for ye. True for ye."
"I want a friend on the council, Mr Donovan. I've broken off my engagement with Dr Jameson's daughter—and there's no knowing how he'll take it. I must have a friend, a really stalwart friend, or else I shall perhaps be compelled to take unpleasant action, which would be very regrettable, very regrettable indeed I'm going to apply for a rise, a £100 rise."
"Ye'll have a friend, Mr Darwen, a rale good friend. I can promise ye that."
They walked out together and down the street; they stopped at the corner where their ways divided.