JOURNALIST. Excellent, Sir; excellent!
BUILDER. Excellent? It's damnable. Here am I--a man who's always tried
to do his duty in private life and public--brought up before the Bench--
my God! because I was doing that duty; with a little too much zeal,
perhaps--I'm not an angel!
JOURNALIST. No! No! of course.
BUILDER. A proper Englishman never is. But there are no proper
Englishmen nowadays.
He crosses the room in his fervour.
RALPH. [Suddenly] As I look at faces--
BUILDER. [Absorbed] What! I told this young man I wasn't an angel.
JOURNALIST. [Drawing him on] Yes, Sir; I quite understand.
BUILDER. If the law thinks it can force me to be one of your weak-kneed
sentimentalists who let everybody do what they like--
RALPH. There are a good many who stand on their rights left, John.
BUILDER. [Absorbed] What! How can men stand on their rights left?
JOURNALIST. I'm afraid you had a painful experience, sir.
BUILDER. Every kind of humiliation. I spent the night in a stinking
cell. I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday. Did they think I was
going to eat the muck they shoved in? And all because in a moment of
anger--which I regret, I regret!--I happened to strike my daughter, who
was interfering between me and my wife.
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