Marg. Perhaps because you are speaking! You! Nouns and adjectives cease to be parts of speech—they become parts of—you!
Sir J. (with a great effort) I have frequently had occasion to remark to you, Margaret, that I have a great distaste for sentimentality. I have explained to you—the month of probation—
Marg. One week has expired. Has it been a week? Can the days have flown so quickly?
Sir J. They have evidently contrived to. Although—
Marg. (rise, up C.) See how the sun is shining—how radiant the water is—and the sky! The dancing sunlight! Oh, what does it say to you, the sunlight! (down R. C. to Sir J.)
Sir J. (impatiently) It says to me that it's very hot—and that we're talking nonsense.
Marg. Oh, let us, for once! I've been so good!—Joseph, you coughed! You must take a lozenge. (she produces a box from the basket) You must! Mr. Mollentrave says that you have the beginnings of asthma.
(She opens the box, takes out a lozenge, and forces it between his lips. He swallows it, pathetically.)
Miss Treable and I are practising first aid, in case you should fall down—
Sir J. (savagely) And why in the name of goodness should I fall down?