Juhasz—Not at all. [He feels them too.]
Oscar—[Feels them again.] Why, if I put these flimsy things on now they'd be in holes before I got home.
Juhasz—They don't knit socks of steel wire, you know. [The Thorough Young Lady enters.]
Thorough Young Lady—Good morning. [Philip, Juhasz and Oscar return her greeting simultaneously. Oscar, socks in hand, even bows and smiles to her. She addresses Oscar.] I'd like a dozen very fine men's handkerchiefs.
Oscar—[Sadly, pointing to Philip.] There, please.
Thorough Young Lady—Yes. [She goes to Philip at the back counter.]
Oscar—It's enough to break your heart. [He looks back at them enviously, dangling the socks from his hand.]
Thorough Young Lady—[To Philip.] Now I don't want the kind that fade when they are washed.
Philip—All our handkerchiefs are absolutely fast colors, madame. [Puts out a box full.] Won't you sit down?
Thorough Young Lady—Thanks. [She sits and examines the handkerchiefs.]
Philip—These are batiste, madame, and these are French linen.
