ATHENE. Don't you ever look at your own face, father? When you shave, for instance.
BUILDER. Of course I do.
ATHENE. It isn't satisfied, is it?
BUILDER. I don't know what on earth you mean.
ATHENE. You can't help it, but you'd be ever so much happier if you were a Mohammedan, and two or three, instead of one, had—had learned to know when you were in the right.
BUILDER. 'Pon my soul! This is outrageous!
ATHENE. Truth often is.
BUILDER. Will you be quiet?
ATHENE. I don't ever want to feel sorry for Guy in that way.
BUILDER. I think you're the most immodest—I'm ashamed that you're my daughter. If your another had ever carried on as you are now—