Dr. Thorne. I said! I said! Who cares what he says?
Mrs. Thorne (in a low voice). That seems to be quite true.
Dr. Thorne. What did you say? Do speak louder. I hate to hear women mumble their words.—I hope you have some roast beef; better than the last. You mustn’t let Parsnip cheat you. Quail? There’s no nourishment in quail for a man in my state— (Pushes away his plate crossly.) Well, I suppose I’ve got to eat something. I was a fool not to dine at the club.—The gas leaks. Can’t you have it attended to? Pudding? No. I see enough of spoon food in sick rooms. I might have eaten a good, hearty pie.
Mrs. Thorne. But the last pie we had, you said—
Dr. Thorne (again). I said! I said! What does it signify what a man says? How many times must I say that? Hurry up the coffee. I must swallow it, and go. I’ve got more than ten men could do.
Mrs. Thorne (gently, but with perceptible dignity). It seems to be more than one woman can do—
Dr. Thorne. What’s that? Do speak so I can hear you.—If you’re going to speak at all.
Mrs. Thorne. I said it seems to be more than one woman can do to rest you.
Dr. Thorne (carelessly). Do ring for a decent cup of coffee. I can’t drink this.
Mrs. Thorne. Esmerald—