Austin. Whose fault is it?
Jinny. Oh, mine! mine! I know it. You don't know it one-half so well as I! I love you better than anything in the world, love everything of you—the turn of your head, the blessed touch of your hand, the smallest word that comes from your dear lips—the thoughts that your forehead hides, but which my heart guesses when I'm sane! And yet, try as hard as I can, these mad fits take hold of me, and although I'd willingly die to save you pain, still I, I myself, hurt and wound you past all bearing! It doesn't make any difference that I suffer too! I ought to! I deserve to—you don't! Oh, no! I know I'm a disappointment and a failure!
[Her eyes fill up with tears and her voice breaks.
Austin. [He turns to her.] No, Jinny, not so bad as that, only I thought you were big—and you're so little, oh, so small!
Jinny. Yes, it's true; I'm small—I'm small! Oh, I'd like to be big, too! I want to be noble and strong, but I'm not—I'm as weak as water—only it's boiling water! I want to be Brunhilde, and I'm only Frou Frou! Yes, I'm little; but I love you—I love you!
[She sinks on to a stool beside him. A moment's pause.
[With a trembling voice.
You don't mind my sitting here?
Austin. No—
[Very quietly, he places his arm about her neck, his hand on her shoulder. She quickly steals up her hand to take his, and leaning her head over it, kisses his hand. He draws it away and kisses her hair.