Valentine White.
Altered! Where are the tiny tea-things with which you once played at making tea in your old school-room? Where is the hoop you used to trundle in Portman Square—the skipping-rope Brooke and I turned for you till our arms nearly dropped from our shoulders? Where are the marbles I gave you—the top I taught you to spin? I say, where are these things and the jolly little girl who delighted in them?
Imogen.
[With much dignity.] I think you’re so violent that it isn’t safe to speak to you. But I’ll ask you one question.
Valentine White.
Pray do.
Imogen.
Where is the good-tempered, curly-headed boy for whom I used to make the tea; the boy who taught me, very patiently, how to play the marbles and to spin the top?
Valentine White.
You see him.