FANNY. It's either my telling him or leaving it for them to do. You
know me, George. How long do you see me being bossed and bullied by
my own servants? Besides, it's bound to come out in any case.

NEWTE [he rises. Kindly but firmly he puts her back into her chair.
Then pacing to and fro with his hands mostly in his trousers pockets,
he talks]. Now, you listen to me, old girl. I've been your business
manager ever since you started in. I've never made a mistake before-
-[he turns and faces her]--and I haven't made one this time.

FANNY. I don't really see the smartness, George, stuffing him up
with a lot of lies he can find out for himself.

NEWTE. IF HE WANTS TO. A couple of telegrams, one to His Grace the
Bishop of Waiapu, the other to Judge Denis O'Gorman, Columbus, Ohio,
would have brought him back the information that neither gentlemen
had ever heard of you. IF HE HADN'T BEEN CAREFUL NOT TO SEND THEM.
He wasn't marrying you with the idea of strengthening his family
connections. He was marrying you because he was just gone on you.
Couldn't help himself.

FANNY. In that case, you might just as well have told him the truth.

NEWTE. WHICH HE WOULD THEN HAVE HAD TO PASS ON TO EVERYONE ENTITLED
TO ASK QUESTIONS. Can't you understand? Somebody, in the interest
of everybody, had to tell a lie. Well, what's a business manager
for?

FANNY. But I can't do it, George. You don't know them. The longer