[By her chair.] It would not weigh on my mind if you had been kitchen-maid [pointing out of the window] at Fletcher's Hotel. [Looking about him.] It's this business I don't care for.
Sophy.
This business!
Pollitt.
For you. If you did no more than glide about your rooms, superintending your young ladies! [Sitting, facing her.] But I hate the idea of your sitting here, or there, holding some man's hand in yours!
Sophy.
[Suddenly ablaze.] Do you! [Pointing out of the window.] Yet you sit there, day after day, and hold women's hands in yours!
Pollitt.
[Eagerly.] You are jealous of me?
Sophy.