VAN. Zounds! madam, it is you who persecute me! Haven’t you followed me like a greyhound follows a hare—tracked me to my very door? Now for goodness sake don’t force me to say anything offensive, but will you go, I say—will you make yourself scarce?
MRS. BOBBINS. This unheard of insolence—
VAN. (interrupting her) I tell you I have no time for ceremony. Will you go—will you leave my lodgings?
MRS. BOBBINS. Your lodgings? Good heavens! I hear somebody coming! (crosses to L.)
VAN. (going to door) It’s my wife!—it’s my wife, I’ll be bound! (down, R.) Go—go, I say—be off with you. (trying to push her off, R.)
MRS. BOBBINS. (aside) Oh, if it should be my husband!
VAN. Here, run in here! quick, quick—hide yourself under the bed!
He pushes her into room R., and locks the door.
Enter REBECCA, with a parcel, C. D. from L.