Douglas. Sorry? Then you won't let your hands lie on the rope for me any more?
Marion. I am very fond of you, Douglas, and I always was, but— [She hesitates.
Douglas. [A little bitterly, disappointed.] I know what you mean. I was all right for dancing-school, but life is a more serious matter— [Marion goes to chair and sits down.] I know I'm not like you, Marion—I know what an intellectual woman you are, and what an ordinary sort of fellow I am. But I love you! and I hoped— [He breaks off and continues with his first idea.] You went to a woman's college, and I only to a man's—You made a study of sociology—I, [Smiling.] principally of athletics. I know I never read books, and you seem to read everything. But I love you. You have your clubs for working girls, your charities; I know the busy, helpful life you lead. You have so much in it, I was in hopes that what room was left for a husband was so little, even I could fill it. And somehow or other I've always taken it for granted you more or less understood, and were—willing.
Marion. I was—once—
Douglas. You were?
Marion. There was no one in the world I liked so much to be with as you, and I think I, too, believed my happiness was in your hands, and that some day we would decide together it was so. But I lately— [She hesitates.
Douglas. Some one else?
Marion. I don't like you one bit less, Douglas, only— [Rises.
Douglas. Only you liked some one else more! I was afraid so. I've heard whispers and guesses—
Marion. Don't let it make any difference with us, Douglas!