you're eating rather well for a martyr.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_fibbing_)

Trouble digs a hole in one's interior. Move away please, I want to sleep
now ... if I can. Perhaps a merciful dream will take me back to the
house I've left, to the flowered cushion He gave me.... Home! sweet
home! Rugs of bright colors for the delight of my eyes, a palm with
nice shoots for me to eat, deep arm-chairs, under which I hide my woolen
ball as a future surprise for myself--ah, and the cork hanging by a
string to the door-latch! the tables covered with bibelots! I thread my
way in and out among them and occasionally it amuses me to break some
brittle thing. The dining-room is a temple! The vestibule, full of
mystery; there unseen, I can watch those who come and go ... Oh narrow
back-stairway, where the step of the milkman rings out for me like a
morning angelus--farewell! farewell! my destiny carries me on, and who
knows if ever ... But this is _too_ sad! All the pretty things I've been
saying have really begun to make me feel badly!!

(_He begins a minute and mournful toilet. The train stops. A conductor
on the platform cries, "Aw-ll-a-borr-a-borr!!"_)

TOBY-DOG

There it is again! An acci--Oh bother, I've had enough of that!

HE, (_anxiously_)

We're going to change trains in ten minutes. How about the cat? He'll
never allow us to shut him up ...