EUSTASIA. Another cup of coffee?
NICHOLAS (with a sigh). No, thank you, Eustasia.
EUSTASIA. Just a little bit of a cup if his Eustasia pours it out for her own Nicholas, and puts the sugar in with her own ickle fingers?
NICHOLAS. No more coffee, thank you.
EUSTASIA. Then he shall sit in a more comfy chair while he smokes his nasty, horrid pipe, which he loves so much better than his Eustasia. (He gets up [121]without saying anything.) He doesn’t really love it better?
NICHOLAS (laughing uneasily). Of course he doesn’t.
EUSTASIA. Kiss her to show that he doesn’t.
NICHOLAS (doing it gingerly). You baby!
EUSTASIA. And now give me your pipe. (He gives it to her reluctantly. She kisses it and gives it back to him.) There! And she doesn’t really think it’s a nasty, horrid pipe, and she’s ever so sorry she said so.... Oh! (She sees a dish of apples suddenly.)
NICHOLAS. What is it?