She (interrupting). Like a burning-glass, I keep cool myself while setting you on fire? Exactly so, and I suppose you would prefer me to be a looking-glass in which you could see only yourself?
He. A wife should reflect her husband’s image, and not that of a pack of fools.
She. Come, come, Jack, you are not jealous?
He. “Jealous!” Of course I am not jealous, but I am very much annoyed.
She. I am glad that you are not jealous, for I have always heard that a jealous man has a very poor opinion of himself.—(Aside.) There’s one for him.
He. I am not jealous, but I will probe this thing to the bottom; I must know the truth.
She (aside). He is jealous now; and this is real: I am sure it is.
He. Go on, tell me more: I must get at the bottom facts. There’s nothing like truth.
She (aside). There is nothing like it in what he’s learning.
He (aside). This Carey is harmless enough, and he can’t help talking. He’s a—he’s a telescope; you have only to draw him out, and anybody can see through him. I’ll get hold of him, draw him out, and then shut him up! (Crossing excitedly.)