Tha 'rt a baffling little 'ussy.
CLARA (running her hand along his thigh)
Aren't you havin' nothing, my dear? (Offers him her glass)
HOLROYD (getting down from the table and putting his hand forcibly on her shoulder) No. Come on, let's shift.
CLARA (struggling)
Hands off!
[She fetches him a sharp slap across the face. Mrs. Holroyd is heard coming downstairs. Clara, released, sits down, smoothing herself. Holroyd looks evil. He goes out to the door.
CLARA (to Mrs. Holroyd, penitently)
I don't know what you think of us, I'm sure.