The only use he can find for sacred
things is to make a jest of them. That's the New Order. Thank Heaven,
we belong to the Old Order, Dan!
CHARTERIS. Cuthbertson: don't be symbolic.
CUTHBERTSON (outraged). Symbolic! That is an accusation of Ibsenism.
What do you mean?
CHARTERIS. Symbolic of the Old Order. Don't persuade yourself that you
represent the Old Order. There never was any Old Order.
CRAVEN. There I flatly contradict you and stand up for Jo. I'd no more
have behaved as you do when I was a young man than I'd have cheated at
cards. _I_ belong to the Old Order.
CHARTERIS. You're getting old, Craven; and you want to make a merit of
it, as usual.
CRAVEN. Come, now, Charteris: you're not offended, I hope. (With a
conciliatory outburst.) Well, perhaps I shouldn't have said that about
cheating at cards. I withdraw it (offering his hand).
CHARTERIS (taking Craven's hand). No offence, my dear Craven: none in
the world. I didn't mean to shew any temper. But (aside, after looking
round to see whether the others are listening) only just
consider!--the spectacle of a rival's happiness!
CRAVEN (aloud, decisively).
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