BUILDER. Oh! So that's your view of us! [His eyes rest on her, attracted but resentful].
CAMILLE. Pardon, Monsieur, my tongue run away with me.
BUILDER. [Half conscious of being led on] Are you from Paris?
CAMILLE. [Clasping her hands] Yes. What a town for pleasure—Paris!
BUILDER. I suppose so. Loose place, Paris.
CAMILLE. Loose? What is that, Monsieur?
BUILDER. The opposite of strict.
CAMILLE. Strict! Oh! certainly we like life, we other French. It is not like England. I take this to Madame, Monsieur. [She turns as if to go] Excuse me.
BUILDER. I thought you Frenchwomen all married young.
CAMILLE. I 'ave been married; my 'usband did die—en Afrique.