Roger. Suzanne!
Suzanne. Are you sure? You’re not going to marry her?
Roger. Suzanne!
Suzanne. They told me you were.
Roger. Nonsense!
Suzanne. Then why do you write to her?—Oh, I know; you’ve written twenty-seven letters to her—I’ve counted them, twenty-seven!
Roger. Those were nothing but——
Suzanne. And one more this morning. Were they all “nothing buts”? What was in that letter that came this morning?
Roger. I merely wrote that I should arrive on Thursday.
Suzanne. That you would arrive on Thursday? Was that all, really? But why didn’t you write to me? Then I’d have been the first to see you.