HILLCRIST. I never could hate proper; it's a confounded nuisance.
JILL. Mother's fearfully' bucked, and Dawker's simply oozing triumph. I don't trust him. Dodo; he's too—not pugilistic—the other one with a pug-naceous.
HILLCRIST. He is rather.
JILL. I'm sure he wouldn't care tuppence if Chloe committed suicide.
HILLCRIST. [Rising uneasily] Nonsense! Nonsense!
JILL. I wonder if mother would.
HILLCRIST. [Turning his face towards the window] What's that? I thought I heard—[Louder]—Is these anybody out there?
[No answer. JILL, springs up and runs to the window.]
JILL. You!
[She dives through to the Right, and returns, holding CHLOE'S hand and drawing her forward]