Miss G. It is rather a matter of _trying_ with you, isn’t it? You’re not very susceptible to the treatment. Mr M. And pretend to be surprised at my wanting to marry you! If the logic of it still leaves you doubtful---- Miss G. Doubtful! I never said I was doubtful! Mr M. Look at the romantic side! How romantic it would be to throw yourself away on riches! Did you never think about that? Not when I--stared? Miss G. I didn’t exactly mean that you exactly stared. You--you--you---- Oh, you really might help me out! What did you do? Mr M. I’d so much rather hear you say it. Miss G. Well, right from the beginning there was something in your look--I mean the way you looked at me--I can’t describe it, but it got more and more like that. Mr M. Yes, I believe I meant it to. Miss G. Never forward or--or impertinent. Just nice, Mr Marchesson. Mr M. I say, was that a good chap you refused in there (_indicating the conservatory to the left_) a thousand years ago? Miss G. Very--so handsome! I liked him awfully. And the girl you refused---- Mr M. To ask---- Miss G. In there? (_Indicating the conservatory to the right._) Mr M. Really, you know--impartially speaking--a ripper! Why did we? Miss G. What? Mr M. I said, “Why did we?” Miss G. Was it--a thousand years ago? Yes? Mr M. Which certainly makes it absurd to call us strangers. Miss G. I wasn’t thinking any more about that. Oh, you do----? Mr M. I do--mean it. Miss G. (_Rising._) I think that--after all--it wouldn’t be so bad in--in---- Mr M. The conservatory? (_They look at one another and laugh._) Miss G. It’s terribly absurd even to think about it. Mr M. It’s absolutely logical! And, by the way, it’s time I put my question. Miss G. Haven’t you? Mr M. Then it’s time you gave your answer. Miss G. (_Putting her hands in his._) Haven’t I? Mr M. There’ll be a great deal of talk about this to-morrow! (_He offers her his arm, and they go towards the conservatory on the left._) Oh, your conservatory? No! Miss G. Yours would be just as bad. Mr M. Then stay here. Miss G. Take me to my carriage. And--and come and see if I’m not perfectly logical to-morrow. (_He releases her arm and kisses her hand. She adds in a low voice:_) And--somehow--it _is_ absurd--so wonderfully happy to-night! Will you come with me? Mr M. Will I live? Come! Quick--through your conservatory! (_He puts his arm round her waist._) Come! (_They disappear into the conservatory on the left._) CURTAIN LA MORT À LA MODE[2] MONSIEUR LE DUC--MADAME LA MARQUISE