BUILDER. [Turning to his chair] Don't know about that woman—she's a tantalizer.
He compresses his lips, and is settling back into his chair, when the door from the hall is opened and his daughter MAUD comes in; a pretty girl, rather pale, with fine eyes. Though her face has a determined cast her manner at this moment is by no means decisive. She has a letter in her hand, and advances rather as if she were stalking her father, who, after a "Hallo, Maud!" has begun to read his paper.
MAUD. [Getting as far as the table] Father.
BUILDER. [Not lowering the paper] Well? I know that tone. What do you want—money?
MAUD. I always want money, of course; but—but—
BUILDER. [Pulling out a note-abstractedly] Here's five pounds for you.
MAUD, advancing, takes it, then seems to find what she has come for more on her chest than ever.
BUILDER. [Unconscious] Will you take a letter for me?
MAUD sits down Left of table and prepares to take down the letter.
[Dictating] "Dear Mr Mayor,—Referring to your call this morning, I have —er—given the matter very careful consideration, and though somewhat reluctant—"