DAWKER. [With a grin] There's no good Hornblower but a dead
Hornblower.
CHLOE. But—but Im not one.
DAWKER. You'll be the mother of some, I shouldn't wonder.
CHLOE. [Stretching out her hand-pathetically] Oh! leave me alone, do! I'm happy here. Be a sport! Be a sport!
DAWKER. [Disconcerted for a second] You can't get at me, so don't try it on.
CHLOE. I had such a bad time in old days.
[DAWKER shakes his head; his grin has disappeared and his face
is like wood.]
CHLOE. [Panting] Ah! do! You might! You've been fond of some woman, I suppose. Think of her!
DAWKER. [Decisively] It won't do, Mrs. Chloe. You're a pawn in the game, and I'm going to use you.
CHLOE. [Despairingly] What is it to you? [With a sudden touch of the tigress] Look here! Don't you make an enemy, of me. I haven't dragged through hell for nothing. Women like me can bite, I tell you.