NORA [quite accustomed to gallantry, and attaching no seriousness whatever to it]. Oh, get along with you, Mr Broadbent! You're breaking your heart about me already, I daresay, after seeing me for two minutes in the dark. BROADBENT. The voice is just as beautiful in the dark, you know. Besides, I've heard a great deal about you from Larry. NORA [with bitter indifference]. Have you now? Well, that's a great honor, I'm sure. BROADBENT. I have looked forward to meeting you more than to anything else in Ireland. NORA [ironically]. Dear me! did you now? BROADBENT. I did really. I wish you had taken half as much interest in me. NORA. Oh, I was dying to see you, of course. I daresay you can imagine the sensation an Englishman like you would make among us poor Irish people. BROADBENT. Ah, now you're chaffing me, Miss Reilly: you know you are. You mustn't chaff me. I'm very much in earnest about Ireland and everything Irish. I'm very much in earnest about you and about Larry. NORA. Larry has nothing to do with me, Mr Broadbent. BROADBENT. If I really thought that, Miss Reilly, I should--well, I should let myself feel that charm of which I spoke just now more deeply than I--than I-- NORA. Is it making love to me you are? BROADBENT [scared and much upset]. On my word I believe I am, Miss Reilly. If you say that to me again I shan't answer for myself: all the harps of Ireland are in your voice. [She laughs at him. He suddenly loses his head and seizes her arms, to her great indignation]. Stop laughing: do you hear? I am in earnest--in English earnest. When I say a thing like that to a woman, I mean it. [Releasing her and trying to recover his ordinary manner in spite of his bewildering emotion] I beg your pardon. NORA. How dare you touch me? BROADBENT. There are not many things I would not dare for you. That does not sound right perhaps; but I really--[he stops and passes his hand over his forehead, rather lost]. NORA. I think you ought to be ashamed. I think if you were a gentleman, and me alone with you in this place at night, you would die rather than do such a thing. BROADBENT. You mean that it's an act of treachery to Larry? NORA. Deed I don't. What has Larry to do with it? It's an act of disrespect and rudeness to me: it shows what you take me for. You can go your way now; and I'll go mine. Goodnight, Mr Broadbent. BROADBENT. No, please, Miss Reilly. One moment. Listen to me. I'm serious: I'm desperately serious. Tell me that I'm interfering with Larry; and I'll go straight from this spot back to London and never see you again. That's on my honor: I will. Am I interfering with him? NORA [answering in spite of herself in a sudden spring of bitterness]. I should think you ought to know better than me whether you're interfering with him. You've seen him oftener than I have. You know him better than I do, by this time. You've come to me quicker than he has, haven't you?