SWEET. (staggers back horrified) A sharp knife!—you alarm me. What for?
MRS. SWEET. What for?—why to rip up the seam of my dress to be sure—I want the upper skirt open at the side, trimmed with flowers—there’s nothing more becoming.
SWEET. (in disgust) Trimmed with flowers! Fool, to suppose that I was in any way concerned in your vexation.
MRS. SWEET. You—of course not—how should that concern you?
SWEET. You have the face to ask me the question after your scandalous behaviour just now?
MRS. SWEET. Oh, that’s what you’ve been driving at all this while—I didn’t understand you—you don’t mean to say that you are still in a bad temper about my joking you. (laughs) There I ask your pardon? Shall I go down upon my knees?
SWEET. No, by no means; laugh again, ma’am, if you like—pray don’t restrain yourself—but you will find for the future that I shan’t give way to all your whims and fancies quite as easily as I have done—it doesn’t answer. (crosses to L.)
MRS. SWEET. Come, now Willie, I didn’t mean to offend you, (smiling) the danger was all past you know.
SWEET. No, ma’am, I am not in a laughing humour to-day, and as I see nothing amusing in what has happened to me, and don’t feel disposed to go out, you will be pleased to stay at home to-night, ma’am.
MRS. SWEET. (smiling) Very well.