KEN. [_To_ TIPPY.] Do you get him?
TIPPY. I think so.
KEN. For God's sake, do you agree with him?
TIPPY. Listen, old man, you believe in those plans of yours ...
KEN. No. I don't believe in anything, in anything, do you hear? Not
in the love of a father for his son, or in the love of a wife for
her husband, or in the loyalty of friends--or in the integrity of
one's purposes, or in the sincerity of one's hopes, or in the
greatness of one's ambitions.
TIPPY. That's how you feel _now_, Ken
MARTIN. You know doggone well you believe in your work. You love
it. You live it.
KEN. [_Quietly._] So you think I ought to call up Prescott and
apologize. Is that it?
MARTIN. Why not? A son of a bitch like Prescott? [_A moment's
silence._]
KEN. [_To_ TIPPY.] And you! [_To his father._] And you, of course ...
[_To_ LAURA.] And you ...
LAURA. [_Breathlessly._] You must do whatever you like.
KEN. All right, I won't hold you responsible.
LAURA. I only meant ... I can take care of myself and ...
KEN. And of me, too.
LAURA. No, Ken ... I ... [_The_ BISHOP _stops her._]
KEN. So you all think I ought to apologize to Mr. Prescott. That's
great. [_Into telephone._] Circle 7-6799 ... That's great ...
[_Into telephone._] Mr. Kenneth Holden would like to speak with
his employer, Mr. Stanley Prescott. [_Plainly._] The name is
Holden. That's right.
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