She (impatiently). You have no small vices. (Rising.) Is there no work calling you away to-night? Why are you not off?
He (looking at watch). I am a little late, that’s a fact: still, I can do what I have to do if I work like a horse.
She. Have you to draw a conveyance? That is the old joke.
He. This is no joke. It’s a divorce suit.
She (quickly). Is it that Lightfoot person again?
He. It is Mrs. Lightfoot’s case. She is a very fine woman, and her husband has treated her shamefully.
She. Better than the creature deserved, I dare say. You will win her case for her?
He. I shall do my best.
She (sarcastically). No doubt.—(Aside.) I hate that woman! (Crosses the room and sits on sofa on the right of the fireplace.)