Trick?
Quex.
'Pon my soul, I believe she's prying—spying on me.
Frayne.
That nice gal!
Quex.
Oh, I daresay I'm wrong. But if I found it so, I—- I'd wring her neck.
Frayne.
[Wistfully.] It's an alluring neck.
Quex.
Trick?
Quex.
'Pon my soul, I believe she's prying—spying on me.
Frayne.
That nice gal!
Quex.
Oh, I daresay I'm wrong. But if I found it so, I—- I'd wring her neck.
Frayne.
[Wistfully.] It's an alluring neck.
Quex.