Athene.  Now, father!

Builder.  I’m damned if I’ll sit down under this injustice.  Your mother is—­is pretty irritating, I can tell you.  She—­she—­Everything suppressed.  And—­and no—­blood in her!

Athene.  I knew it!

Builder. [Aware that he has confirmed some thought in her that he had no intention of confirming] What’s that?

Athene.  Don’t you ever look at your own face, father?  When you shave, for instance.

Builder.  Of course I do.

Athene.  It isn’t satisfied, is it?

Builder.  I don’t know what on earth you mean.

Athene.  You can’t help it, but you’d be ever so much happier if you were a Mohammedan, and two or three, instead of one, had—­had learned to know when you were in the right.

Builder.  ’Pon my soul!  This is outrageous!

Athene.  Truth often is.

Builder.  Will you be quiet?

Athene.  I don’t ever want to feel sorry for Guy in that way.

Builder.  I think you’re the most immodest—­I’m ashamed that you’re my daughter.  If your another had ever carried on as you are now—­

Athene.  Would you have been firm with her?

Builder. [Really sick at heart at this unwonted mockery which meets him at every turn] Be quiet, you——!

Athene.  Has mother never turned?

Builder.  You’re an unnatural girl!  Go your own way to hell!

Athene.  I am not coming back home, father.

Builder. [Wrenching open the door, Right] Julia!  Come!  We can’t stay here.

     Mrs builder comes forth, followed by Guy.

As for you, sir, if you start by allowing a woman to impose her crazy ideas about marriage on you, all I can say is—­I despise you. [He crosses to the outer door, followed by his wife.  To Athene] I’ve done with you!

     He goes out.

     Mrs builder, who has so far seemed to accompany him, shuts the door
     quickly and remains in the studio.  She stands there with that faint
     smile on her face, looking at the two young people.

Athene.  Awfully sorry, mother; but don’t you see what a stunner father’s given me?

Mrs builder.  My dear, all men are not alike.

Guy.  I’ve always told her that, ma’am.

Athene. [Softly] Oh! mother, I’m so sorry for you.

     The handle of the door is rattled, a fist is beaten on it.

[She stamps, and covers her ears] Disgusting!

Guy.  Shall I—?

Mrs builder. [Shaking her head] I’m going in a moment. [To Athene] You owe it to me, Athene.

Athene.  Oh! if somebody would give him a lesson!