Fletcher. [Near her.] I wonder why I feel so diffident with you. I think I never was diffident before! [Smiling.
Marion. [Smiling.] No, you haven't that reputation.
Fletcher. [Smiling apologetically, but humourously.] Dear me, I hope you don't know what my reputation isn't—or is.
Marion. [Seriously.] I don't judge a man by his reputation.
Fletcher. [Involuntarily half under his breath, humourously.] Thank heaven! [Marion looks at him, hearing him. There is a pause. She waits willingly for him to speak, hoping he will.] I've been a very bad fellow.
Marion. Some of the best men in the world have begun that way.
Fletcher. They probably had some one to help—to believe in them.
Marion. And haven't you?
Fletcher. Will you believe in me enough to— [Looks off in ball-room up a little; Marion follows. He loses his control and speaks passionately.] Don't you understand,—I love you— [He embraces her; she allows him. The embrace lasts a moment.] You can be my salvation! Will you be?
Marion. [In his arms, looking up at him.] I will—if I can—