JILL. Why? Even if she is Old Combustion's daughter-in-law?
MRS. H. My dear Jill, allow me to judge the sort of acquaintances I wish to make. [She looks at DAWKER.]
JILL. She's all right. Lots of women powder and touch up their lips nowadays. I think she's rather a good sort; she was awfully upset.
MRS. H. Too upset.
JILL. Oh! don't be so mysterious, mother. If you know something, do spit it out!
MRS. H. Do you wish me to—er—"spit it out," Jack?
HILLCRIST. Dawker, if you don't mind——
[DAWKER, with a nod, passes away out of the French window.]
Jill, be respectful, and don't talk like a bargee.
JILL. It's no good, Dodo. It made me ashamed. It's just as—as caddish to insult people who haven't said a word, in your own house, as it is to be—old Hornblower.