JACK. I understand, old man! If only she weren't so rich!
MONTAGUE. If only she weren't...
JACK. Yes, yes, dear boy; I know how it is. You're troubled with a conscience, and yours must be strictly a cottage affair! But forget it just now, old fellow... we've got work before us. Play ball!
[Takes him by the shoulder; they go off.]
[CURTAIN] [ [!-- H2 anchor --] ]
ACT III
HEGAN'S office in Wall street. A large room, furnished with severe simplicity. At the left a large table, with half a dozen chairs about it, and a "ticker" near the wall; at the right, a flat-topped desk and a telephone. Entrance centre.
[At rise: ANDREWS stands by desk; takes some papers, looks them over, makes note and replaces them.]
PARKER. [Enters.] Say, Andrews, what's the reply to these letters of the Fourth National?
ANDREWS. Give them here; I'll see to them.