HOBSON. You'll put aside your weakness for my Maggie if you've a
liking for a sound skin. You'll waste a gradely lot of brass at
chemist's if I am at you for a week with this. (_He swings the
strap_.)

WILLIE. I'm none wanting thy Maggie, it's her that's after me,
but I'll tell you this, Mr. Hobson--(_seizing_ MAGGIE
_roughly
by the arm_),--if you touch me with that belt, I'll take her
quick, aye, and stick to her like glue.

HOBSON. There's nobbut one answer to that kind of talk, my lad.
(_He strikes with belt_. MAGGIE _shrinks_.)

WILLIE. And I've nobbut one answer back. Maggie, I've none kissed
you yet. I shirked before. But, by gum, I'll kiss you now--(_he
kisses her quickly, with temper, not with passion, as quickly
leaves her, to face_ HOBSON)-and take you and hold you. And if
Mr. Hobson raises up that strap again, I'll do more. I'll walk
straight out of shop with thee and us two 'ull set up for
ourselves.

MAGGIE. Willie! I knew you had it in you, lad. (_She puts her
arm round his neck. He is quite unresponsive. His hands fall
limply to his sides_.)

(HOBSON _stands in amazed indecision_.)

CURTAIN.