COKESON. It's such a little thing--hardly worth the fees. I thought
you'd do it yourself.
WALTER. Send it, please. I don't want the responsibility.
COKESON. [With an indescribable air of compassion] Just as you
like. This "right-of-way" case--we've got 'em on the deeds.
WALTER. I know; but the intention was obviously to exclude that bit
of common ground.
COKESON. We needn't worry about that. We're the right side of the
law.
WALTER. I don't like it,
COKESON. [With an indulgent smile] We shan't want to set ourselves
up against the law. Your father wouldn't waste his time doing that.
As he speaks JAMES How comes in from the partners' room. He is
a shortish man, with white side-whiskers, plentiful grey hair,
shrewd eyes, and gold pince-nez.
JAMES. Morning, Walter.
WALTER. How are you, father?
COKESON. [Looking down his nose at the papers in his hand as though
deprecating their size] I'll just take Boulter's lease in to young
Falder to draft the instructions. [He goes out into FALDER'S room.]
WALTER. About that right-of-way case?
JAMES. Oh, well, we must go forward there. I thought you told me
yesterday the firm's balance was over four hundred.
WALTER. So it is.
JAMES. [Holding out the pass-book to his son] Three--five--one, no
recent cheques. Just get me out the cheque-book.
WALTER goes to a cupboard, unlocks a drawer and produces a
cheque-book.
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