BOBBY. I say, you know—(he tries again) I don't want you to—to feel that—I mean, just because I asked you twice—I mean I don't want you to feel that—well, I mean you mustn't do it just for my sake, Sandy. I mean Melisande.
MELISANDE. You may call me Sandy.
BOBBY. Well, you see what I mean, Sandy.
MELISANDE. It isn't that, Bobby. It isn't that.
BOBBY. You know, I was thinking about it last night—afterwards, you know—and I began to see, I began to see that perhaps you were right. I mean about my not being romantic and—and all that. I mean, I'm rather an ordinary sort of chap, and——
MELISANDE (sadly). We are all rather ordinary sort of chaps.
BOBBY (eagerly). No, no. No, that's where you're wrong, Sandy. I mean Melisande. You aren't ordinary. I don't say you'd be throwing yourself away on me, but—but I think you could find somebody more suitable. (Earnestly). I'm sure you could. I mean somebody who would remember to call you Melisande, and who would read poetry with you and—and all that. I mean, there are lots of fellows——
MELISANDE. I don't understand. Don't you want to marry me now?
BOBBY (with dignity). I don't want to be married out of pity.
MELISANDE (coldly). I have told you that it isn't out of pity.