(Grinning amiably.) Don’t you lay it on too thick if you want to sell your car. And I suppose that’s what you’re after?
Varlie.
Sure! (Laughing.) Did you think I was intending to give it to you?
Gordon.
We might do without it.
Varlie.
Not likely. Not when you had once set eyes on it. The ladies would fair grab at it if you let it slip.
Nora.
There is my dad—he’ll be mad not to see it. He is away out in the hills, or I’d fetch him along this minute.
Varlie.