JAMES. 'Tisn't so much the bein' virtuous, as the lookin' it, that's awful.
L. ANNE. Are all the middle classes virtuous? Is Poulder?
JAMES. [Dubiously] Well. Ask him!
L. ANNE. Yes, I will. Look!
[From an empty bin on the ground level she picks up a lighted taper,—burnt almost to the end.]
JAMES. [Contemplating it] Careless!
L. Ate. Oh! And look! [She paints to a rounded metal object lying in the bin, close to where the taper was] It's a bomb!
She is about to pick it up when JAMES takes her by the waist and puts her aside.
JAMES. [Sternly] You stand back, there! I don't like the look o' that!
L. ANNE. [With intense interest] Is it really a bomb? What fun!