They think, because we serve, we've no more right
To
feelings
than their cattle.
Lascelles Abercrombie - Emblems of Love
[MORRIS _has come in unseen and rushes forward_.
_Morris_.
You beast! You filthy villainous fellow!--Now,
I hope I've hurt the hellish brain in you.
Take yourself off. You'll need a nurse to-night.
[HAMISH _slinks out_.
Poor girl! And are you sprained at all? That ruffian!
_Jean_.
O sir, how can I thank you? You don't know
What we poor serving girls must put up with.
We don't hear many voices like yours, sir.
They think, because we serve, we've no more right
To
feelings
than their cattle.
O forgive me
Talking to you. You don't come often here.
_Morris_.
No, but I will: after to-night I'll see
You take no harm. And as for him, I'll smash him.
_Jean_.
Yes, break the devil's ribs,--I mean,--O leave me;
I'm all distraught.
_Morris_.
Good night, Jean. My name's Morris.
_Jean_.
Good night, Morris--dear. O I must thank you.
[_She suddenly kisses him_.
Perhaps,--perhaps, you'll think that wicked of me?
