Spreta. So he did—so he had! And you never really and truly loved him either, or you would never have made such a fool of the dog as you did!
"Yes, Alfred, Retribution!"
Alfred. I had renounced my wonderful thick book. I needed something to fill up my life!
Spreta. You might have chosen something better than a miserable little poodle with no hair on his tail!
Alfred (turns pale). It is you—you, who were the guilty one in that. (Harshly and coldly.) It was your hand that spilt the hot water over him as he lay comfortably on the hearthrug. It was! And you know it!
Spreta (terrified, yet defiant). Better own at once that you came behind me and jogged my arm!
Alfred (in suppressed desperation). Yes, that is true. You looked so entrancingly beautiful as you were putting the kettle on for tea, that I was irresistibly impelled to kiss you!
Spreta (exasperated). Alfred! This is intolerable of you. Do I deserve to be reproached for looking entrancingly beautiful?