They don't seem to fit my
mouth, somehow. Just let me run on my own way. I don't mean to hurt your
feelings. Anyway, Jim says your brother-in-law was in business in
Russia.
[Up to this point he has gone on rapidly, but after the word "Russia" he
pauses abruptly as if startled by a sudden thought and slowly repeats.]
"In business in Russia!"
[He rises.]
LADY CREECH. This is beside the point entirely!
PIKE. It _is_ the point! Now, between us, ain't Jim right? Ain't it the
truth?
LADY CREECH [angry and agitated]. Since some of your vulgar American
officials have been spying about--
PIKE [with controlled excitement]. Your brother-in-law was in business
in Russia; so far, so good.
[Leans upon back of chair watching her, eager, but smiling cordially.]
I don't say he was peddling shoe-strings on the corner or selling
weinerwursts--
[LADY CREECH gives a slight scream of indignation.]
PIKE [continuing]. Probably something more hifalutin' and dignified than
that. He was probably agent for a wooden butter-dish factory.
LADY CREECH [enraged]. He had contracts with the Russian government
itself!
PIKE (staggering back, recovers himself immediately, and, speaking
sharply, but in a voice of great agitation). _Not_ for mining--_not_ for
hydraulic machines!
LADY CREECH.
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