Corn. It’s hard to believe that she is of the same clay as ourselves.
Dunn. Clay! She was never clay.
Corn. She might have been cast in a different mould.
Dunn. She’s not a casting at all—so——
Corn. Of course there’s no denying she’s beautiful. But I’ve a prejudice against these classic expressionless women; these cold blocks of marble.
Dunn. (as if paralyzed) Marble—you do know then——
Corn. (looks at Dunn quickly) I know what you ought to have known the moment you saw her, that she was not the sort of thing, that—that—it wouldn’t do to have her about the house.
Dunn. I did know it, Corney, and I have tried. I have tried to get her away, but I can’t.
Corn. Obdurate and unforgiving, eh? As I suspected; she has a heart of stone.
Dunn. Well, she had; of course that was changed with the other alterations.