Holding her hands to his breast. There is no difference already; there is none.
Lily.
Isn’t there! Almost nestling up to him. Ah, you should see me in one of my vile tempers. Wistfully. Then—then you wouldn’t—! Becoming conscious of her proximity to him, she backs away and stands rubbing the palms of her hands together in embarrassment. Anyhow—anyhow it isn’t my intention to give you a chance of comparing us.
Farncombe.
Under his breath. Oh—Miss Parradell——!
Lily.
Collecting herself. No, I—I’m not going to let you make a fool of yourself over me, if I can help it.
Farncombe.
Fool——!
Lily.