We were talking about the
Greek gods.
Mrs. Denham.
Oh well, if _you_ encourage her in her laziness, I can do nothing.
(_Crosses L as she speaks, then turns suddenly._) Get out
of my sight, miss! It is time for you to go out now. Go away, and
take off that pinafore. You are a disgrace to your father and to me.
(_Gives her a final shake. Undine runs out screaming._) Oh dear! Oh
dear! There! Listen to that precious daughter of yours, filling the
house with her yells. (_She presses her hands over her ears._) Oh,
that child will be the death of me! (_Throws herself down upon the
couch._) She ought never to have been born. Her existence is a
mistake and a curse.
Denham.
(_sighing_) Yes, we are all mistakes from the ideal standpoint.
Mrs. Denham.
It makes me mad to think that I--I--should have brought such an
idiot into the world!
Denham.
Yes, you are an over-populated woman, dear. (_Rises up to her._) The
modern woman is very easily over-populated.
Mrs. Denham.
You can joke about it, of course. To me it is a serious calamity.
(_Weeps._)
Denham.
Well, dear, at least we have not repeated our initial mistake.
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