GUY. Oh! Ah! Those things?
BUILDER. Yes. Now then?
GUY. [Addressing MRS BUILDER] Need we go into this in your presence,
ma'am? It seems rather delicate.
BUILDER. What explanation have you got?
GUY. Well, you see--
BUILDER. No lies; out with it!
GUY. [With decision] I prefer to say nothing.
BUILDER. What's your name?
GUY. Guy Herringhame.
BUILDER. Do you live here?
Guy makes no sign.
MRS BUILDER. [To Guy] I think you had better go.
BUILDER. Julia, will you leave me to manage this?
MRS BUILDER. [To Guy] When do you expect my daughter in?
GUY. Now--directly.
MRS BUILDER. [Quietly] Are you married to her?
GUY. Yes. That is--no--o; not altogether, I mean.
BUILDER. What's that? Say that again!
GUY. [Folding his arms] I'm not going to say another word.
BUILDER. I am.
MRS BUILDER. John--please!
BUILDER. Don't put your oar in! I've had wonderful patience so far.
[He puts his boot through a drawing] Art! This is what comes of it! Are
you an artist?
GUY. No; a flying man. The truth is--
BUILDER. I don't want to hear you speak the truth. I'll wait for my
daughter.
GUY. If you do, I hope you'll be so very good as to be gentle.
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