[He has gone off again into a kind of dream.]
MERCY. I like being confirmed.
STRANGWAY. Ah! Yes. Now——What's that behind you, Mercy?
MERCY. [Engagingly producing a cage a little bigger than a mouse-trap, containing a skylark] My skylark.
STRANGWAY. What!
MERCY. It can fly; but we're goin' to clip its wings. Bobbie caught it.
STRANGWAY. How long ago?
MERCY. [Conscious of impending disaster] Yesterday.
STRANGWAY. [White hot] Give me the cage!
MERCY. [Puckering] I want my skylark. [As he steps up to her and takes the cage—thoroughly alarmed] I gave Bobbie thrippence for it!