BUILDER. Toothache—poor devil! H'm! I'm expecting my brother, but I don't know that I can see him.
CAMILLE. No, Monsieur?
BUILDER. Ask your mistress to come here.
He looks up, and catching her eye, looks away.
CAMILLE. Yes, Monsieur.
As she turns he looks swiftly at her, sweeping her up and down. She turns her head and catches his glance, which is swiftly dropped. Will Monsieur not 'ave anything to eat?
BUILDER. [Shaking his head-abruptly] No. Bring the coffee!
CAMILLE. Is Monsieur not well?
BUILDER. Yes—quite well.
CAMILLE. [Sweetening her eyes] A cutlet soubise? No?