She (aside). Why, he’s got a book! It’s my Guide to the Passions. The wretch has actually been copying his jealousy out of my own book. (Aloud, with pretended emotion.) Dear me, Jack, you never before objected to my little flirtations. (Aside, watching him.) How will he like that?
He (aside, puzzled). “Little flirtations!” I don’t like that—I don’t like it at all.
She. They have all been attentive, of course—
He (aside). “Of course!” I don’t like that, either.
She. But I did not think you would so take to heart a few innocent endearments.
He (starting). “Innocent endearments!” Do you mean to say that they offer you any “innocent endearments?”
She (quietly). Don’t be so boisterous, Jack: you will crush my book.
He (looking at pamphlet crushed in his hand, and throwing it from him, aside). Confound the book! I do not need any prompting now.—(Aloud.) Which of these men has dared to offer you any “innocent endearments?”
She (hesitatingly). Well—I don’t know—that I ought to tell you—since you take things so queerly. But Tom—