Jenny Do you know, sir, that before leaving this place, I am going to scratch your eyes out?
Spruce
Sir, to avoid any further quarrel—give her her portrait. You know a
woman scorned is a hundred times more vicious than all the Devils in
Hell.
McNaughten But, were she a thousand times more of a Devil than she is— I don't know her or her mistress.
Spruce (to Jenny) Never mind what he says. He must still be in love with her. Let me soften him up a bit. Come back soon, and I will have it for you.
Jenny
Oh, all right. I can wait a little. But if he refuses to listen to
reason when I get back, I am going to burn the house down, understand?
(Smiling)
(Exit Jenny)
McNaughten I don't know which of those harridans is more frightening: the mistress or the maid. How can perfect strangers be so enthusiastic about persecuting me—? Like furies from Hell.
Spruce A man like you—young, loveable, handsome—is subject to these misfortunes. Between lovers, fights like these are mere bagatelles. >From today, I promise to make you friends with her.
McNaughten
Lord forbid.
Spruce (aside) But, who do I see coming this way? It's the Squire. That hundred pounds is going to spell trouble for us.