Kitty. I don’t, one bit.
Grap. Ha, you do! Vat for you plague him so if you no love him? Ha! your eyes,—zay tell ze tale.
Kitty. I don’t care if I do: he’s a booby! He don’t love me.
March. (Aside.) Don’t I, though!
Grap. Vat for you say that, hey?
Kitty. Because he never told me.
March. (Rushing down C.) Then, by jingo! he tells you so now. Kitty Sands, you’re the idol of my heart. There’s a devouring passion in my bosom that gnaws—Oh, pshaw! I can’t imitate the Captain. But, Kitty Gale, I do truly and sincerely love you.
Kitty. Why, March Gale! you’ve been listening.
March. A little bit, Kitty,—just enough to find out what a fool I’ve been: but it’s all right now. And you’ll marry me one of these days.
Kitty. One of these days? When?