John.
No, no; it’s of no consequence——
Olive.
Dinner! dinner! if every woman in the world was weeping her heart out, men would be found dining—feeding—feasting! What was I saying when Quaife blundered in? Where was I?
John.
[Looking at her steadily.] Quite reasonable at last.
Olive.
[After a brief pause, speaking gently again.] Oh, John——! [Advancing a few steps.] It was inconsiderate of me to break out in that way. But I don’t mean half the brutal things I say; I never did.
John.
You couldn’t have done so.