[In the presence of this man of her own class, there comes a
distinct change in CHLOE'S voice and manner; a sort of frank
commonness, adapted to the man she is dealing with, but she
keeps her voice low.]

CHLOE. You're making a mistake, you know.

DAWKER. [With a broad grin] No. I've got a memory for faces.

CHLOE. I say you are.

DAWKER. [Turning to go] If that's all, you needn't have troubled
me to come.

CHLOE. No. Don't go! [With a faint smile] You are playing a game
with me. Aren't you ashamed? What harm have I done you? Do you
call this cricket?

DAWKER. No, my girl--business.

CHLOE. [Bitterly] What have I to do with this quarrel? I couldn't
help their falling out.

DAWKER. That's your misfortune.

CHLOE. [Clasping her hands] You're a cruel fellow if you can spoil
a woman's life who never did you an ounce of harm.

DAWKER. So they don't know about you. That's all right. Now, look
here, I serve my employer. But I'm flesh and blood, too, and I
always give as good as I get. I hate this family of yours. There's
no name too bad for 'em to call me this last month, and no looks too
black to give me. I tell you frankly, I hate.

CHLOE. There's good in them same as in you.

DAWKER. [With a grin] There's no good Hornblower but a dead
Hornblower.

CHLOE. But--but Im not one.

DAWKER. You'll be the mother of some, I shouldn't wonder.

CHLOE. [Stretching out her hand-pathetically] Oh! leave me alone,
do! I'm happy here. Be a sport! Be a sport!

DAWKER. [Disconcerted for a second] You can't get at me, so don't
try it on.

CHLOE. I had such a bad time in old days.

[DAWKER shakes his head; his grin has disappeared and his face
is like wood.]

CHLOE. [Panting] Ah! do! You might! You've been fond of some
woman, I suppose. Think of her!

DAWKER. [Decisively] It won't do, Mrs. Chloe. You're a pawn in
the game, and I'm going to use you.

CHLOE. [Despairingly] What is it to you? [With a sudden touch of
the tigress] Look here! Don't you make an enemy, of me. I haven't
dragged through hell for nothing. Women like me can bite, I tell
you.

DAWKER. That's better. I'd rather have a woman threaten than
whine, any day. Threaten away! You'll let 'em know that you met me
in the Promenade one night. Of course you'll let 'em know that,
won't you?--or that----

CHLOE. Be quiet! Oh! Be quiet! [Taking from her bosom the