BOB. [Looking around the room as if to see if any one is in hiding, and then putting his hand to his mouth and exaggerating the whisper.] The Terrible Swede.
MOLLIE. [In her ordinary tone and very much exasperated.] Robert, I've told you a hundred times that you shouldn't refer to—to—the man in that way.
BOB. And I've told you a hundred times to ask Hilda his name. If I knew his name I'd announce him with as much ceremony as if he were the Swedish Ambassador.
MOLLIE. [Disgusted.] Oh, don't try to be funny! Suppose some day Hilda hears you speak of him in that manner?
BOB. You know that's mild compared to what you think of him. Suppose some day Hilda learns what you think of him?
MOLLIE. I think very well of him and you know it. Of course, I dread the time when she marries him, but I wouldn't for the world have her think that we speak disrespectfully of her or her friends.
BOB. "A man's home is his castle."
[Mollie's only answer is a gesture of impatience. Mollie and Bob sit back in their chairs to await Hilda's return. Both sit with fingers interlaced, hands resting on the edge of the table in the attitude of school children at attention. A long pause. Mollie unclasps her hands and shifts uneasily. Robert does the same. Mollie, seeing this, hastily resumes her former attitude of quiet waiting. Robert, however, grows increasingly restless. His restlessness makes Mollie nervous and she watches Robert, and when he is not observing her she darts quick, anxious glances at the door, centre. Bob drains and refills his glass.
MOLLIE. [She has been watching Robert and every time he shifts or moves she unconsciously does the same, and finally she breaks out nervously.] I don't understand this at all! Isn't to-day Tuesday?
BOB. What of it?