No, Geert.
Geert.
You lie. [Kicking away the mirror.] I saw it myself. The beggars; to shut up a sailor in a cage where you can’t walk, where you can’t speak, where you—[Strikes wildly upon the table with his fist.]
Bar.
Here is the gin.
Jo.
The gin?
Bar.
For Geert.
Geert.