Dorothy. Jennie, Hicks isn’t Bob. His name—is George.
Yardsley (in a despairing rage). Hicks be—
Dorothy. Mr. Yardsley!
Yardsley (pulling himself together again). Bobbed. Hicks be Bobbed. That’s what I was going to say.
Dorothy. What on earth does this all mean? I must have an explanation, Jennie. What have you to say for yourself?
Jennie. Why, I—
Yardsley. I tell you it isn’t true. She’s made it up out of whole cloth.
Barlow. What isn’t true? She hasn’t said anything yet.
Yardsley (desperately). I refer to what she’s going to say. I’m a—a—I’m a mind-reader, and I see it all as plain as day.
Dorothy. I can best judge of the truth of Jennie’s words when she has spoken them, Mr. Yardsley. Jennie, you may explain, if you can. What do you mean by Hicks killing Mr. Yardsley, and why do you presume to call Mr. Yardsley by his first name?