george. Are you going to be married?
abud. Not especially, sir.
george. Yes . . you must marry . . some decent woman; we want gardeners.
abud. Do you want me any more now, sir?
george. You have interested me. You can go back to your work.
abud obeys.
george. [Almost to himself.] I am hardly human.
He slowly moves away and out of sight.
ann. John Abud.