without your frock-coat and silk hat--on the Sabbath.--What was that
you said? You think of something else, besides yourselves?--Oh ay--
I'm glad to hear it. Did you mean your own importance?


(A motor car, GERALD BARLOW driving, OLIVER TURTON with him has
pulled up.)


JOB ARTHUR (glancing at the car). No, I didn't.

WILLIE. Didn't you, though?--Come, speak up, let us have it. The
more the merrier. You were going to say something.

JOB ARTHUR. Nay, you were doing the talking.

WILLIE. Yes, so I was, till you interrupted, with a great idea on the
tip of your tongue. Come, spit it out. No matter if Mr. Barlow hears
you. You know how sorry for you we feel, that you've always got to
make your speeches twice--once to those above, and once to us here
below I didn't meant the angels and the devils, but never mind. Speak
up, Job Arthur.

JOB ARTHUR. It's not everybody as has as much to say as you, Mr.
Houghton.

WILLIE. No, not in the open--that's a fact. Some folks says a great
deal more, in semi-private. You were just going to explain to me, on
behalf of the men, whom you so ably represent and so wisely lead, Job
Arthur--we won't say by the nose--you were just going to tell me--on