PETER. James? Impossible.

FREDERIK. I'm not so sure.

PETER. [_Good-naturedly._] James? James Hartman?

FREDERIK. When I look back and remember him as a barefoot boy living in a
shack behind our hot-houses--and see him now--in here with you--

PETER. All the more credit, Frederik.

FREDERIK. Yes; but these are the sort of fellows who dream of getting into
the firm. And there are more ways than one.

PETER. Do you mean to say--He wouldn't presume to think of such a thing.

FREDERIK. Oh, wouldn't he! The class to which he belongs presumes to think
of anything. I believe he has been making love to Catherine.

PETER. [_After a slight pause, goes to the dining-room door and calls._]
Katie! Katie!

FREDERIK. [_Hastily._] Don't say that I mentioned it. [CATHERINE
_enters._

PETER. Katie, I wish to ask you a question. I--[_He laughs._]
Oh, it's absurd. No, no, never mind.

CATHERINE. What is it?