I? Never, never. Oh! a kiss in passing—a mere courtesy——
Miss Fitton:
You are incorrigible!
Herbert:
I am. How can I help it? I can’t love the rose and scorn the lily. Every woman tempts me; but after all Mary is best [tries to take her in his arms, but she draws away], for Mary is hardest to win, and I love her—— [Kisses her.]
Miss Fitton:
[Yielding.] What fools we women are! I know you don’t love me; but I cheat myself you do, and the slighter the proof the more I fondle it. What double fools, for when I would be true and brave and free, you lean your head upon my breast, and the mother in me makes me your slave; my blood turns to milk; I am all tenderness and take your desire for love. We are so foolish-fond—wretched creatures!
Herbert:
Not much to choose between us: Come, Mary, here are your tables; since you gave them to me I haven’t kept you waiting once: now have I? [Puts them on the table.]
Miss Fitton: