WILLIE. Maggie, what's this? (Moves down R. a little.)
MAGGIE. I'm watching you, my lad.
HOBSON. Mind, Willie, you can keep your job. I don't bear malice, but we must beat the love from your body, and every morning you come here to work with love still sitting in you, you'll get a leathering. (Getting ready to strike.)
WILLIE. You'll not beat love in me. You're making a great mistake, Mr. Hobson, and—
HOBSON. You'll put aside your weakness for my Maggie if you've a liking for a sound skin. You'll waste a gradely lot of brass at chemist's if I am at you for a week with this. (He swings the strap.)
WILLIE. I'm none wanting thy Maggie, it's her that's after me, but I'll tell you this, Mr. Hobson—(seizing MAGGIE roughly by the arm),—if you touch me with that belt, I'll take her quick, aye, and stick to her like glue.
HOBSON. There's nobbut one answer to that kind of talk, my lad. (He strikes with belt. MAGGIE shrinks.)
WILLIE. And I've nobbut one answer back. Maggie, I've none kissed you yet. I shirked before. But, by gum, I'll kiss you now—(he kisses her quickly, with temper, not with passion, as quickly leaves her, to face HOBSON)-and take you and hold you. And if Mr. Hobson raises up that strap again, I'll do more. I'll walk straight out of shop with thee and us two 'ull set up for ourselves.
MAGGIE. Willie! I knew you had it in you, lad. (She puts her arm round his neck. He is quite unresponsive. His hands fall limply to his sides.)
(HOBSON stands in amazed indecision.)