Everard. (scornfully) His love! He has called you an idiot! You!
Margaret. (sobbing again) Yes—a wretched—little—idiot! And what had I done to deserve it! (Everard sits C.) Oh, leave me, leave me! Go to your Lady Claude!
Everard. (trembling with excitement) You can't marry him now!
Margaret. Will he let me escape, do you think? All this week, the hungry love in his eyes!
Everard. But you—if you don't love him?
Margaret. I loved what I thought was him. And I—I am faithful—I do not change—I don't says things to one woman one week and then make love to another! Why do you stay here, Everard? Your bride is waiting!
Everard. (desperately) Do you think I want to marry Lady Claude?
Margaret. (scornfully) Would you have proposed to her, if you didn't?
Everard. I proposed out of pique, because you—
Margaret. (excitedly) What, what!