Apparently Miss Rose Euclid could exercise a siren's charm upon nearly all sorts of men. But Edward Henry knew one sort of men upon whom she could not exercise it; namely, the sort of men who are born and bred in the Five Towns. His instinctive belief in the Five Towns as the sole cradle of hard practical common sense was never stronger than just now. You might by wiles get the better of London and America, but not of the Five Towns. If Rose Euclid were to go around and about the Five Towns trying to do the siren business, she would pretty soon discover that she was up against something rather special in the way of human nature!
Why, the probability was that these three--Rose Euclid (only a few hours since a glorious name and legend to him), Carlo Trent, and Mr. Marrier--could not at that moment produce even ten pounds between them! ... And Marrier offering to lay fivers! ... He scornfully pitied them. And he was not altogether without pity for Seven Sachs, who had doubtless succeeded in life by sheer accident and knew no more than an infant what to do with his too easily earned money.
"Well," said Edward Henry, "shall I tell you what I've decided?"
"I've decided to make you a present of my half of the option."
"But aren't you going in with us?" exclaimed Rose, horror-struck.
"But Mr. Bryany told us positively you were! He said it was all arranged!"
"Mr. Bryany ought to be more careful," said Edward Henry. "If he doesn't mind, he'll be telling a downright lie some day."
"Well," said Edward Henry, reasoning. "What _is_ an option? What does it mean? It means you are free to take something or leave it. I'm leaving it."
"But why?" demanded Mr. Marrier, gloomier.
Carlo Trent played with his eye-glasses and said not a word.
"Why?" Edward Henry replied. "Simply because I feel I'm not fitted for the job. I don't know enough. I don't understand. I shouldn't go the right way about the affair. For instance, I should never have guessed by myself that it was the proper thing to settle the name of the theatre before you'd got the lease of the land you're going to build it on. Then I'm old-fashioned. I hate leaving things to the last moment; but seemingly there's only one proper moment in these theatrical affairs, and that's the very last. I'm afraid there'd be too much trusting in Providence for my taste. I believe in trusting in Providence, but I can't bear to see Providence overworked. And I've never even tried to be intellectual, and I'm a bit frightened of poetry plays--"