Yes, it's me.
HOLROYD (shouting)
An' I'll ma'e thee wish it worn't, I will. What—? What—? Tha'd come slivin' round here, would ta? (He lurches forward at Blackmore with clenched fist)
MRS. HOLROYD
Drunken, drunken fool—oh, don't.
HOLROYD (turning to her)
What?
[She puts up her hands before her face. Blackmore seizes the upraised arm and swings Holroyd round.
BLACKMORE (in a towering passion)
Mind what tha'rt doing!