excitedly) It's only a question of price--fifty thousand pounds,
Robert--a pink tie with purple spots, hair across the back,
trousers with a patch in the fall myself Wurzel-Flummery--any old
thing you like, you can't insult me--anything you like, gentlemen,
for fifty thousand pounds. (Lowering his voice) Only you must leave
it in your will, and then I can feel that it is a sacred duty--a
sacred duty, my lords and gentlemen. (He sinks back into the sofa
and relights his pipe.)

CRAWSHAW. (rising with dignity). It is evidently useless to prolong
this conversation.

RICHARD (waving him dorm again). No, no, Robert; I've finished. I
just took the other side--and I got carried away. I ought to have
been at the Bar.

CRAWSHAW. You take such extraordinary views of things. You must
look facts in the face, Richard. This is a modern world, and we are
modern people living in it. Take the matter-of-fact view. You may
like or dislike the name of--ah--Wurzel-Flummery, but you can't get
away from the fact that fifty thousand pounds is not to be sneezed
at.

RICHARD (wistfully). I don't know why people shouldn't sneeze at
money sometimes. I should like to start a society for sneezing at
fifty thousand pounds. We'd have to begin in a small way, of course;
we'd begin by sneezing at five pounds--and work up. The trouble is
that we're all inoculated in our cradles against that kind of cold.

CRAWSHAW (pleasantly). You will have your little joke. But you know