[Crosses to R.
Kyrle Miss Chute!
Anne Well, I can’t help it. When I am angry the brogue comes out, and my Irish heart will burst through manners, and graces, and twenty stay-laces. [Crosses to L.] I’ll give up my fortune—that I will!
Kyrle You can’t—you’ve got a guardian who can not consent to such a sacrifice.
Anne Have I? then I’ll find a husband that will.
Kyrle [Aside.] She means me—I see it in her eyes.
Anne [Aside.] He’s trying to look unconscious. [Aloud.] Kyrle Daly, on your honor and word as a gentleman, do you love me and nobody else?
Kyrle Do you think me capable of contaminating your image by admitting a meaner passion into my breast?
Anne Yes, I do.
Kyrle Then you wrong me.