HARRY. So you are shivering!
(She makes no answer, and he reflects with the help of his pipe.)
May I put a light to these bits of sticks?
MRS. OTERY. If you like. My orders are to have fires once a week.
(He lights the twigs in the fireplace, and they burn up easily, but will be ashes in a few minutes.)
You can’t have the money to buy a house like this.
HARRY. Not me. It was just my manly curiosity to see the old home that brought me. I’m for Australy again. (Suddenly turning on her.) What is wrong with this house?
MRS. OTERY (on her guard). There is nothing wrong with it.
HARRY. Then how is it going so cheap?
MRS. OTERY. It’s—in bad repair.