Mrs. Drake (re-entering with bottle and glasses). There!
Pew. Easy does it, ma’am.
Kit. Mrs. Drake, you had better trot.
Mrs. Drake. Yes, I’ll trot; and I’ll trot with a sick heart, Kit French, to leave you drinking your wits away with that low blind man. For a low man you are—a low blind man—and your clothes they would disgrace a scarecrow. I’ll go to my bed, Kit; and O, dear boy, go soon to yours—the old room, you know; it’s ready for you—and go soon and sleep it off; for you know, dear, they, one and all, regret it in the morning; thirty years I’ve kept this house, and one and all they did regret it, dear.
Pew. Come now, you walk!
Mrs. Drake. O, it’s not for your bidding. You a seaman? The ship for you to sail in is the hangman’s cart.—Good-night, Kit, dear, and better company. (Exit.)
SCENE VI
Pew, Kit
They sit at the other table, L.