Joan: I am glad you think I am in the right. But how obstinate they are!
Martin: As obstinate as children, and should be birched as roundly.
Joan: Oh! but— You would not birch children.
Martin: You are right again. They should be coaxed.
Joan: Yes. No. I mean— Good night, dear singer.
Martin: Good night, dear milkmaid. Sleep sweetly among your comrades who are wiser than we, being so indifferent to happy endings that they would never unpadlock sorrow, though they had the key in their keeping.
Then he took her hands in one of his, and put his other hand very gently under her chin, and lifted it till he could look into her face, and he said: "Give me the key to Gillian's prison, little Joan, because you love happy endings."
Joan: Dear Martin, I cannot give you the key.
Martin: Why not?
Joan: Because I stuck it inside your apple.