BODIE (in sudden alarm). I won’t be brushed. I will not be scraped.
CINDERELLA (twisting him round). Just look at that tobaccy ash! And I cleaned you up so pretty before luncheon.
BODIE. I will not be cleaned again.
CINDERELLA (in her element). Keep still.
(She brushes, scrapes, and turpentines him. In the glory of this she tosses her head at the Venus.)
I gave Mrs. Bodie a good wipe down this morning with soap and water.
BODIE (indignant). That is a little too much. You know quite well I allow no one to touch her.
(CINDERELLA leaves him and gazes in irritation at the statue.)
CINDERELLA. What is it about the woman?
BODIE (in his heat forgetting the policeman). She is the glory of glories.