Tom.
My own, especial Rebecca!
Mrs. Mossop.
Don't be a fool, Mr. Wrench! Now, I've no time to waste. I know you want something—
Tom.
Everything, adorable. But most desperately do I stand in need of a little skillful trimming at your fair hands.
Mrs. Mossop.
[Taking the scissors from him and clipping the frayed edges of his shirt-cuffs and collar.] First it's patching a coat, and then it's binding an Inverness! Sometimes I wish that top room of mine was empty.
Tom.
And sometimes I wish my heart was empty, cruel Rebecca.