GERALD (with the idea of putting himself and BOB more at their
ease). Good old Marcus and Farringdon! It's the most perfect name
for a firm. They sound so exactly as though they could sell you
anything from a share to a shaving-brush. Marcus and Farringdon's
pure badger, two shillings--gilt-edged badger half-a-crown.

BOB (fiercely). I suppose everything is just a pleasant joke to
you.

GERALD (utterly surprised). Bob! Bob, old boy, what's the matter?
(Putting his hand on BOB'S shoulder) I say, Bob, I haven't hurt
you, have I?

BOB (hopelessly). Oh, Jerry, I believe I'm in the devil of a hole.

GERALD. You haven't called me "Jerry" since we were at school.

BOB. You got me out of holes then--damn you! and you were my
younger brother. Oh, Jerry, get me out of this one.

GERALD. But, of course. (Firmly, as if a little nervous of a scene
from BOB) My dear Bob, you're as right as anything. You've got
nothing on earth to worry about. At the worst it's only a question
of money, and we can always put that right somehow.

BOB. I'm not sure that it is only a question of money.

GERALD (frightened). What do you mean? (Turning away with a laugh)
You're talking nonsense.