"Shut the door half a minute. Won't you sit down?"
"No, thanks."
"Ah! the strange uncouth ways of the Saxon. However, it doesn't matter. You don't want to hit a fellow when he's down, Carstairs?"
"No, but I want to knock him down."
"Ah! the incomprehensible Saxon. You wouldn't see a poor devil with an old mother and a wife and family chucked out on the streets, or sent to quod?"
"What are you pulling my leg about now? You haven't got a wife and family."
"Me! Oh dear, no. I'm not down. Ha! ha! You can't touch me, old chap. I haven't passed the engine. As a matter of fact I told the contractor's man yesterday I was afraid she wouldn't do, and I drafted a letter to the firm, telling them so. It's not sent yet; the clerks are awaiting my signature to the typed copy."
"Then what have you been playing all this game about?"
"This is the game of life, dear boy, a sort of universal high jinks. Let me explain. I'm going to have that engine, and if you kick up a row, either before or after, you won't touch me. All that will happen will be that half a dozen poor fools, who are at present earning a precarious living as tools, tools of the inexpensive order, will be chucked aside."
Carstairs stepped to the door again. "Alright, we shall see."