BUILDER. Don't be impudent! My patience is at breaking-point, I warn you.
ATHENE. I'm perfectly serious, Father. I tell you, we meant to marry, but so far I haven't been able to bring myself to it. You never noticed how we children have watched you.
BUILDER. Me?
ATHENE. Yes. You and mother, and other things; all sorts of things—
BUILDER. [Taking out a handkerchief and wiping his brow] I really think you're mad.
ATHENE. I'm sure you must, dear.
BUILDER. Don't "dear" me! What have you noticed? D'you mean I'm not a good husband and father?
ATHENE. Look at mother. I suppose you can't, now; you're too used to her.
BUILDER. Of course I'm used to her. What else is marrying for?
ATHENE. That; and the production of such as me. And it isn't good enough, father. You shouldn't have set us such a perfect example.