MELISANDE. One cannot always control one's parents. There comes a time when it is almost useless to say things to them.
BOBBY (eagerly). I never mind your saying things to me, Sandy—I mean, Melisande. I never shall mind, really I shan't. Of course, I know I'm not worthy of you, and all that, but—I say, Melisande, isn't there any hope?
MELISANDE. Bobby, I asked you not to talk to me like that again.
BOBBY (coming to her). I know you did, but I must. I can't believe that you—
MELISANDE. I told you that, if you promised not to talk like that again, then I wouldn't tell anybody anything about it, so that it shouldn't be awkward for you. And I haven't told anybody, not even Jane, to whom I tell all my secrets. Most men, when they propose to a girl, and she refuses them, have to go right out of the country and shoot lions; it's the only thing left for them to do. But I did try and make it easy for you, Bobby. (Sadly) And now you're beginning all over again.
BOBBY (awkwardly). I though perhaps you might have changed your mind. Lots of girls do.
MELISANDE (contemptuously). Lots of girls! Is that how you think of me?
BOBBY. Well, your mother said—(He breaks off hurriedly.)
MELISANDE (coldly). Have you been discussing me with my mother?
BOBBY. I say, Sandy, don't be angry. Sorry; I mean Melisande.