ROPER. [Raising his eyebrows.] H'm! The purse! Depravity in high
life! What does your son say?

BARTHWICK. He remembers nothing. D--n! Did you ever see such a
mess? It 'll get into the papers.

MRS. BARTHWICK. [With her hand across hey eyes.] Oh! it's not
that----

[BARTHWICK and ROPER turn and look at her.]

BARTHWICK. It's the idea of that woman--she's just heard----

[ROPER nods. And MRS. BARTHWICK, setting her lips, gives a
slow look at JACK, and sits down at the table.]

What on earth's to be done, Roper? A ruffian like this Jones will
make all the capital he can out of that purse.

MRS. BARTHWICK. I don't believe that Jack took that purse.

BARTHWICK. What--when the woman came here for it this morning?

MRS. BARTHWICK. Here? She had the impudence? Why was n't I told?

[She looks round from face to face--no one answers hey, there
is a pause.]

BARTHWICK. [Suddenly.] What's to be done, Roper?