MARTHA. But father can't wait to-morrow with a broken arm.
PAUL. That's not my fault. I didn't break it. You tell him what I said.
MARTHA (turning, then). Then you won't be paying him his money, sir?
PAUL. What?
MRS. MUNNING. Paying him! I like your impudence
ZACK. You'd better go home, Martha.
MARTHA. Yes, Mr. Zack (Crying.) But I am so——
ZACK (his arm about her). There! There! (Leading her towards door.)
MRS. MUNNING. Keep your hands off the girl, Zack.
ZACK. I was only consoling her a bit. (He opens r. door.)