Thekla [unwraps the figure on the table]. Hallo, I say. Who's this meant to be?
Adolf. Guess!
Thekla [tenderly]. Is it meant to be his little wife? And he isn't ashamed of it, is he?
Adolf. Hasn't he hit the mark?
Thekla. How can I tell?—the face is lacking.
[She drapes the figure.]
Adolf. Quite so—but all the rest? Nice?
Thekla [taps him caressingly on yhe cheek]. Will he shut up? Otherwise I'll kiss him.
[She goes behind him; Adolf defending himself.]
Adolf. Look out, look out, anybody might come.