G. Nor I. It seems so strange; and yet, somehow, it doesn't.
(Confidently.) You see, it could have been no one else.
MRS. G. (Softly.) No. No one else -for me or for you. It must
have been all arranged from the beginning. Phil, tell me again
what made you care for me.
CAPT. G. How could I help it? You were you, you know.
MRS. G. Did you ever want to help it? Speak the truth!
CAPT. G. (A twinkle in his eye.) I did, darling, just at the first.
Rut only at the very first. (Chuckles.) I called you-stoop low and
I'll whisper-"a little beast." Ho! Ho! Ho!
MRS. G. (Taking him by the mous'ache and making him sit up.)
"A-little-beast!" Stop laughing over your crime! And yet you had
the-the -awful cheek to propose to me!
CAPT. C. I'd changed my mind then. And you weren't a little beast
any more.
MRS. G. Thank you, sir! And when was I ever?
CAPT. G. Never! But that first day, when you gave me tea in that
peach-colored muslin gown thing, you looked-you did indeed,
dear-such an absurd little mite. And I didn't know what to say to
you.
MRS. G. (Twisting moustache.) So you said "little beast." Upon
my word, Sir! I called you a "Crrrreature," but I wish now I had
called you something worse.
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