JACK. Good-night, Mother.
[He goes out. MRS. BARTHWICK heaves a sigh. There is a
silence.]
BARTHWICK. He gets off too easily. But for my money that woman
would have prosecuted him.
ROPER. You find money useful.
BARTHWICK. I've my doubts whether we ought to hide the truth----
ROPER. There'll be a remand.
BARTHWICK. What! D' you mean he'll have to appear on the remand.
ROPER. Yes.
BARTHWICK. H'm, I thought you'd be able to----Look here, Roper,
you must keep that purse out of the papers.
[ROPER fixes his little eyes on him and nods.]
MRS. BARTHWICK. Mr. Roper, don't you think the magistrate ought to
be told what sort of people these Jones's are; I mean about their
immorality before they were married. I don't know if John told you.
ROPER. Afraid it's not material.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Not material?
ROPER. Purely private life! May have happened to the magistrate.
BARTHWICK. [With a movement as if to shift a burden.] Then you'll
take the thing into your hands?
ROPER. If the gods are kind. [He holds his hand out.]
BARTHWICK. [Shaking it dubiously.] Kind eh? What? You going?
ROPER. Yes.
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