Topp. You are in the presence of a lady, sir. Conduct yourself accordingly, or I shall hold you responsible. (Pushes him aside.)
Tick. You don’t play that game on me! I’m not responsible.
Topp. A correct observation, on my life.
Tick. (Getting between them.) Don’t bother me. This is my customer. (Pulls Topp away C.)
Topp. What is that you say?
Angie. (Puzzled.) Goodness, me, what are they both talking about!
Topp. (Aside.) There! wrong again! It is dogs. (Angry.) Madam—miss, if there is anything I—(Stops. Aside.) I must be civil. She’s very pretty. Miss, I think you had best go home and write about them. (Aside.) I’ll buy them and drown them.
Tick. Old Bluebeard! She’s a dear little angel.
Topp. There is my card. I’ll be delighted to hear from you.
Tick. (Aside.) Who doubts it?