Cadwell:
What?
L. Gent.:
No, you'll never know.
Cadwell:
I beg you.
L. Gent.:
No.
Cadwell:
My little dear.
L. Gent.:
No.
Cadwell: Eh. The little animal doesn't see that I'm mocking him and that I know everything he intends to tell me.
L. Gent.: Yes? Do you know that my aunt told me to come here and to bring you to her, and that she told me to make it appear as if it came from me? But because of your tobacco you will know nothing. I know how to punish you.
Cadwell:
And I—I don't want to listen to you.
L. Gent.:
And I—I have no desire to say anything further, either.