Blore.
Shall I show them hin, Miss Sheba?
Sheba.
Yes, Blore, dear, and hang your h’s on the hat-stand.
[Blore laughs sweetly at Sheba and shakes his fingers at her playfully.
Blore.
[Vindictively, behind their backs.] ’Ussies!
[He goes out.
Salome.
Am I all right, Sheba?