Conan: If I did, it was for your own good!
Celia: Do you call it for my good to set me
running till I have my toes going through my shoes?
(Holds them out.)
Conan: I didn't think to go that length.
Celia: To roughen my hands with soap and
scalding water till they're near as knotted and as
ugly as your own!
Conan: Ah, leave me alone! I tell you it is not
by my own fault. My plan and my purpose that
went astray and that broke down.
Celia: I will not leave you till you'll change me
back to what I was. What way can these hands go
to the dance house to-night? Change me back, I say!
Rock: And me—
Timothy: And myself, that I'll have quiet in my
head again.
Conan: I cannot undo what has been done.
There is no back way.
Timothy: Is there no way at all to come out of
it safe and sane?