BOBBY. Well, really I can't follow you, darling.
JANE (indignantly). You mustn't call me darling.
BOBBY. Mustn't call you what?
JANE (awkwardly). Darling.
BOBBY. Did I call you darling?
JANE (shortly). Yes.
BOBBY (to himself). "Darling." No, I suppose I mustn't. But it suits you so awfully well—darling. (She stamps her foot) I'm sorry, darl—— I mean Jane, but really I can't follow you. Because you're so frightfully fascinating, that after twenty-four hours of it, I simply have to tell you how much I love you, then your pride is hurt. But if you had been so frightfully unattractive that it took me a whole year to see anything in you at all, then apparently you'd have been awfully proud.
JANE. You have known me a whole year, Bobby.
BOBBY. Not really, you know. Directly I saw you and Sandy together I knew I was in love with one of you, but—well, love is a dashed rummy thing, and I thought it was Sandy. And so I didn't really see you till last night, when you were so awfully decent to me.
JANE (wistfully). It sounds very well, but the trouble is that it will sound just as well to the next girl.