GROSVENOR—Then you will marry me, Patience? Ah, this is too much! (Goes to clasp her in his arms.)
PATIENCE—But stop. I never thought of this. Love to be pure must be unselfish. If I marry you I shall deprive others of your beautiful presence, and the travelling public will know you no more. That would be selfish, and therefore I must not love you.
GROSVENOR—Oh, fatal perfection, again you stand in the way of my happiness; but you are right, Patience, you are right. (Sings.)
HE.
Marry me, fair maiden, from my heart 'twill take a load
Hey, but I'm hopeful, willow, willow waly,
I'm the handsomest conductor on the Chicago & Alton Road;
Hey, willow waly, oh!
My salary is modest,
My intentions are quite honest;
Hey, willow waly, oh!