suspect.
Catherine.
My father owes you a lot of money. He’s chairman of half your companies. He thinks that if I divorce you he’ll have to pay that money. …
George Winter.
I’m sure his sense of delicacy would prevent him from remaining in my debt.
Catherine.
And you’ll make him resign his directorships?
George Winter.
[With his tongue in his cheek.] I know him well enough to feel certain that he would never wish to retain them.
Catherine.
Oh, it’s vile.
George Winter.
Or is it common sense?
[There is a moment’s pause, and when George Winter speaks it is with great seriousness.
George Winter.
Now look here, Kate; listen to me carefully. You know that all our interests are in Central America. The Lewishams had it all their own way out there till I came along. They owned the railways and the mines and the trams—everything that was worth having. Well, I knew I couldn’t oust them, but I thought I could make them take me in. I’ve been fighting them tooth and nail for ten years. They’ve done all they could to smash me by fair means and foul, but they haven’t succeeded. And now I’m in sight of my goal. I can force them to come to terms.
Catherine.
All this is nothing to me.
George Winter.
The Lewishams got on to a big thing—a mine called the Campo del Oro. But that earthquake the other day queered their pitch, and they offered bills when hard cash was the only thing to do the trick. I thought that what was good enough for the Lewishams was good enough for me. I knew that if I could get it they’d have to take me in. I had two hours to think it over. I found the cash and bought the mine last week.
Catherine.
It doesn’t interest me.
George Winter.
It will. I sent Macdonald out there.
Etchingham.
Macdonald is George’s expert. He’s the soundest man in the profession.
George Winter.
And straight, straight as a die. I’m expecting his report every day. He may cable me at any moment. Then I shall get to work. I’m going to float the mine as a company with a capital of half a million. Your father will be chairman, and he ought to make close on fifty thousand out of it. For a reason I needn’t tell you, we can’t afford to wait. We must have ready money, and that means floating the company at once. My only chance is in Middlepool, where three parts of my backing have come from before. We shall soon be in the middle of a General Election. And you know how uncertain my seat in Middlepool is. I keep it only by my personal popularity. I’m at the mercy of the Nonconformists, and if there’s talk of a divorce it’s all U.P. with me. They’ll make me retire before the election, and if that happens the new company won’t stand a dog’s chance.
Lady Francis.
Why?
George Winter.
Because with the general public nervous, I shall have to depend on Middlepool, and there I can only float it on my personal character.
Catherine.
I’m afraid you’ll think it very selfish, but I haven’t any more power of self-sacrifice in me.
George Winter.
If the Campo del Oro is a failure, it’ll knock down all the other companies I’m connected with. The Lewishams will seize the opportunity to make a raid on me. I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, and anyone who cares to give me a shove will send me over. … It’ll mean your father’s ruin and mine—I dare say you don’t mind that—but it’ll also mean the ruin of thousands of poor investors all over the country. Three-quarters of the population of Middlepool will lose their savings.
Catherine.
You’ve lied to me so often, George.
George Winter.
I can show you by plain figures that every word I say is true.
Catherine.
I haven’t much sympathy with the gamblers who want to make money without working for it. If they lose, it’s their own look out.
[There is a pause. George Winter looks at her and nods to himself.
George Winter.
[To Etchingham.] I think you’d better go now. The rest of our conversation doesn’t need any listeners.
Catherine.
I have nothing more to say to you.
George Winter.
Don’t be a damned fool. It’s a matter of life and death to me, and d’you think I’m going to … [He stops.] Please, Lady Francis.
Lady Francis.
Of course we’ll leave you. Come, Frank.
[Lady Francis and her husband go out.
George Winter.
[With a twinkle in his eye.] I don’t think your elopement receives the unqualified approval of your parents.
Catherine.
D’you want to repeat that odious scene of last night? Surely we said all that we had to say to one another.
George Winter.
[Shrugging his shoulders.] You know, I wouldn’t have played the fool with other women if you hadn’t shown me very clearly that you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.
Catherine.
I would rather not discuss that.
George Winter.
[With a chuckle.] After all, it isn’t as if I cared a tinker’s cuss for the whole lot of them.
Catherine.
[Flushing.] And you think that makes it any better? I think I could have forgiven you if you’d had any love for those wretched women. But it wasn’t even that. You exposed me to all that humiliation merely to gratify your vanity. When I’ve seen how you’ve treated those women I, even I, have been sorry for them.
George Winter.
If you like I’ll give you my solemn word of honour that you shall have no cause to complain in future.
Catherine.
It’s too late. You’ve given me my chance of freedom and I mean to take it.
George Winter.
You’re not keeping your part of the bargain.
Catherine.
What d’you mean?
George Winter.
You didn’t marry me because you were in love with me. …
Catherine.
[Interrupting.] That’s not true.
George Winter.
[With a smile.] Think.
Catherine.
[Hesitating.] A year ago I would have said again that it wasn’t true. I didn’t know what love was.
George Winter.
You