O'Cal. (giving way a little). I come to tell you of the cure we will be putting on him. I'm thinking it won't be to your taste and you short tempered with your trouble.
Mrs. G. Do you think I care what it is so it puts an end to this?
O'Cal. Is that the truth you're telling me?
Mrs. G. Truth! Bless the man. I'm at the bitter end.
O'Cal. (briskly). Then I'll be stepping out and bringing out my cure. I didn't fetch her in because I knew you quarrelled with her. (He reaches the door and puts his hand to the latch.)
Mrs. G. Stop! Do you mean Margaret Shaweross?
O'Cal. Yes. (He takes a step towards table. They speak across it.)
Mrs. G. That woman doesn't cross my threshold.
O'Cal. The sight of her 'ull bring the life back into Peter.
Mrs. G. No.