MARY. Nonsense, Rogers! I like helping.
ROGERS. My poor farver taught me. 'E led a godly, righteous, an' sober life. 'E was a grocer.
MANSON. Come, Rogers. Take them to the kitchen.
[ROGERS obeys with some asperity of mien. At the door he delivers a Parthian shot.]
ROGERS. If my poor farver could see what I've seen to-day, 'e would roll over in 'is grave!
[MANSON opens the door for him. He goes.]
MARY [gayly]. Isn't he funny? Just because his silly old father . . .
MANSON. Ssh! His father's dead, Mary!
[There is a sudden pause. He comes down to her.]
Well, have you thought any more about . . .