AMY (_much moved_). It is for me to judge. I know a disinterested man when I see him. Even in America we can understand honour. PAUL (_with a sob in his voice_). Good-bye Miss Toomis. AMY. But no, I don't want it to be good-bye. PAUL. It must be. Never shall it be said of a Barbazange that he hunted a woman for her money. AMY. But what does it matter what the world says, if I say the opposite? PAUL. You say the opposite? Thank you, thank you. But no, good-bye. AMY. Stop. Oh! you're forcing me to do a most unwomanly thing. You're making me ask you to marry me. You're the only disinterested man I've ever met or, to judge from what I've seen of the world, I'm ever likely to meet. Haven't you kept away from me in spite of your feelings? Haven't you even tried to make me listen to another man--a man not worthy to black your boots? Oh, it's so wonderful, so noble! It's like something in a picture play. Paul, I offer myself to you. Will you take me in spite of my millions? PAUL (_falling on his knees and kissing the hem of_ AMY'S _skirt_). My angel, you're right; what does it matter what the world says as long as you believe in me? Amy, amie, bien-aimée.... Ah, it's too good too, too good to be true! (_He rises to his feet and embraces her with an unfeigned enthusiasm_.) AMY. Paul, Paul.... And so this is love. Isn't it wonderful? PAUL (_looking round anxiously_). You mustn't tell anyone about our engagement, my Amy. They might say unpleasant things in the hotel, you know. AMY. Of course I won't talk about it. We'll keep our happiness to ourselves, won't we? PAUL. Entirely to ourselves; and to-morrow we'll go to Paris and arrange about being married. AMY. Yes, yes; we'll take the eight o'clock train. PAUL. Not the eight o clock, my darling. I have to go to the bank to-morrow to do a little business. We must wait till the twelve thirty. AMY. Very well, then. The twelve-thirty. Oh, how happy I am! PAUL. So am I, my sweetheart. More than I can tell you. (_The sound of a window being opened is heard. They look up and see the_ BARONESS _dressed in a peignoir of the tenderest blue, emerging on to the right hand of the three balconies_.) AMY. Oh, my soul! I think I'd better go in. Good-night, my Paul. (_She runs in_.) SIMONE. Has that horrid little American girl gone? (_She peers down, then, reassured, she blows a kiss to_ PAUL.) My Romeo! PAUL. I come, Juliet. SIMONE. There's a kiss for you. PAUL (_throwing kisses with both hands_). And there's one for you. And another, and another. Two hundred million kisses, my angel. SIMONE (_giggling_). What a lot!