I give in to them the worse they'll get.

NEWTE. Can't you square them?

FANNY. No, that's the trouble. They ARE honest. They're the
"faithful retainers" out of a melodrama. They are working eighteen
hours a day on me not for any advantage to themselves, but because
they think it their "duty" to the family. They don't seem to have
any use for themselves at all.

NEWTE. Well, what about the boy? Can't HE talk to them?

FANNY. Vernon! They've brought him up from a baby--spanked him all
round, I expect. Might as well ask a boy to talk to his old
schoolmaster. Besides, if he did talk, then it would all come out.
As I tell you, it's bound to come out--and the sooner the better.

NEWTE. It must NOT come out! It's too late. If we had told him at
the beginning that he was proposing to marry into his own butler's
family--well, it's an awkward situation--he might have decided to
risk it. Or he might have cried off.

FANNY. And a good job if he had.

NEWTE. Now talk sense. You wanted him--you took a fancy to him from
the beginning. He's a nice boy, and there's something owing to him.
[It is his trump card, and he knows it.] Don't forget that. He's
been busy, explaining to all his friends and relations why they
should receive you with open arms: really nice girl, born
gentlewoman, good old Church of England family--no objection