Clifton. Well [thoughtfully], you may have the name without the money if you like. But you must have the name.
Crawshaw [disappointed]. Ah! [Bravely.] Of course, I have nothing against the name, a good old Hampshire name—
Clifton [shocked]. My dear Mr. Crawshaw, you didn't think—you didn't really think that anybody had been called Wurzel-Flummery before? Oh no, no. You and Mr. Meriton were to be the first, the founders of the clan, the designers of the Wurzel-Flummery sporran—
Crawshaw. What do you mean, sir? Are you telling me that it is not a real name at all?
Clifton. Oh, it's a name all right. I know it is because—er—I made it up.
Crawshaw [outraged]. And you have the impudence to propose, sir, that I should take a made-up name?
Clifton [soothingly]. Well, all names are made up some time or other. Somebody had to think of—Adam.
Crawshaw. I warn you, Mr. Clifton, that I do not allow this trifling with serious subjects.
Clifton. It's all so simple, really.... You see, my Uncle Antony was a rather unusual man. He despised money. He was not afraid to put it in its proper place. The place he put it in was—er—a little below golf and a little above classical concerts. If a man said to him, "Would you like to make fifty thousand this afternoon?" he would say—well, it would depend what he was doing. If he were going to have a round at Walton Heath—
Crawshaw. It's perfectly scandalous to talk of money in this way.