To_ KATE.] I'm guilty. I took my rent
money and bought this topcoat at a second-hand store.
KATE. You said a friend gave it to you.
TED. I haven't a friend left who'll even give me cast-off clothing.
KATE. But why did you have to lie about it?
TIPPY. That coat's an investment. You can't peddle books on Park
Avenue without a topcoat.--Go along and cash in on your investment.
Sell that book.
KATE. I hope you can.
TED. I probably can--by going through another half hour as pleasant
as this one. [_He goes, shutting door sharply. There is a brief
silence._]
KEN. Well, I might as well tell you I haven't got my share of the
rent, either.
TIPPY. What's the matter? Check late?
KEN. No.--I sent it back.
TIPPY. You what?
KEN. I sent it back.
KATE. Did your father lose his job?
KEN. Bishops don't lose their jobs.
TIPPY. So what are you talking about?
KEN. I've been living off dad for five years.
TIPPY. Starving off him.
KEN. Don't blame dad. I set the amount under Hoover. Bishops aren't
economists.
TIPPY. You sent the check back and asked for a new deal?
KEN. No.
TIPPY. [_Patiently._] Why _did_ you send the check back?
KEN. I'm through letting dad pay me for piddling around here.
TIPPY. But Ken, be reasonable. The landlord must eat.
KEN. Then give him back this place. He can eat the cockroaches.
TIPPY.
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