Sud. Forms, not things.
Ruler. Beg pardon, forms—the position I hold to-day is the result of my desires in my previous life—when the trumpet calls me into the next—there I shall reap the harvest of what I have sown here. Why should we help the brick-layers?
[Miss Ivory interrupts, "Mr. Sud."]
Sud [waves her silent]. Sch!
Ruler. If they chose in their past life to be born brick-layers here, have we the right—
[Miss Ivory interrupts several times. Miss Ivory is on stage left.]
Sud. Sch!!
Ruler. I ask you—have we the right to tear down the building they designed when they were here before? Have we the right to say to them how they shall lay the bricks in the foundation for their next life? Have we the right—
Miss Ivory. Mr. Sudd!!!
Sud [at last in desperation]. Well, what is it, Miss Ivory?