e's listening.

JOHN. 'Tisn't that. If it was anywhere but here, if there was any way
to avoid all the nasty scandal, I'd come a shootin' for you, and you
know it.

WILL. Gun-fighter, eh?

JOHN. Perhaps. Let me tell you this. I don't know how you make your
money, but I know what you do with it. You buy yourself a small circle
of sycophants; you pay them well for feeding your vanity; and then you
pose,--pose with a certain frank admission of vice and degradation.
And those who aren't quite as brazen as you call it manhood. Manhood?
[_Crossing slowly to armchair, sits._] Why, you don't know what the
word means. It's the attitude of a pup and a cur.

WILL. [_Angrily_.] Wait a minute [_Crosses to_ JOHN.], young man, or
I'll--

JOHN _rises quickly. Both men stand confronting each other for a
moment with fists clenched. They are on the very verge of a personal
encounter. Both seem to realize that they have gone too far_.

JOHN. You'll what?

WILL. Lose my temper and make a damn fool of myself. That's something
I've not done for--let me see--why, it must be nearly twenty
years--oh, yes, fully that.

[_He smiles_; JOHN _relaxes and takes one step back_.

JOHN. Possibly it's been about that length of time since you were
human, eh?

WILL. Possibly--but you see, Mr. Madison, after all, you're at fault.

JOHN. Yes?

WILL. Yes, the very first thing you did was to lose your temper. Now
people who always lose their temper will never make a lot of money,
and you admit that that is a great necessity--I mean now--to you.

JOHN. I can't stand for the brutal way you talk. [_Crosses up to seat,
picks up newspaper, slams it down angrily on seat, and sits with elbow
on balustrade_.

WILL. But you have got to stand it. The truth is never gentle.
[_Crosses up and sits left of_ JOHN.] Most conditions in life are
unpleasant, and, if you want to meet them squarely, you have got to
realize the unpleasant point of view. That's the only way you can
fight them and win.

JOHN [_Turns to_ WILL.] Still, I believe Laura means what she says,
in spite of all you say and the disagreeable logic of it. I think she
loves me. If she should ever want to go back to the old way of getting
along, I think she'd tell me so. So you see, Brockton, all your talk
is wasted, and we'll drop the subject.

[_Crosses down and sits in armchair_.

WILL. And if she should ever go back and come to me, I am going to
insist that she let you know all about it.