JILL. Except, of course, mother.
HILLCRIST. How do you mean—mother?
JILL. Mother reminds me of England according to herself—always right whatever she does.
HILLCRIST. Ye-es. Your mother it perhaps—the perfect woman.
JILL. That's what I was saying. Now, no one could call you perfect, Dodo. Besides, you've got gout.
HILLCRIST. Yes; and I want Fellows. Ring that bell.
JILL. [Crossing to the bell] Shall I tell you my definition of a gentleman? A man who gives the Hornblower his due. [She rings the bell] And I think mother ought to call on them. Rolf says old Hornblower resents it fearfully that she's never made a sign to Chloe the three years she's been here.
HILLCRIST. I don't interfere with your mother in such matters. She may go and call on the devil himself if she likes.
JILL. I know you're ever so much better than she is.
HILLCRIST. That's respectful.