DOT. [Despairingly] First pick! [Tearing her hair] Pigs! Devils!
[She rushes after them. BILL and MABEL are left alone.]

MABEL. [Mockingly] And don't you want one of the spaniel pups?

BILL. [Painfully reserved and sullen, and conscious of the workroom
door] Can't keep a dog in town. You can have one, if you like. The
breeding's all right.

MABEL. Sixth Pick?

BILL. The girls'll give you one of theirs. They only fancy they
want 'em.

Mann. [Moving nearer to him, with her hands clasped behind her] You
know, you remind me awfully of your father. Except that you're not
nearly so polite. I don't understand you English-lords of the soil.
The way you have of disposing of your females. [With a sudden change
of voice] What was the matter with you last night? [Softly] Won't
you tell me?

BILL. Nothing to tell.

MABEL. Ah! no, Mr. Bill.

BILL. [Almost succumbing to her voice--then sullenly] Worried, I
suppose.

MABEL. [Returning to her mocking] Quite got over it?