Con. I'm afraid I've done very wrong, Arthur. If I had thought you would care!—I knew aunt would be pleased!—she wanted me to have him, I knew.—I ought to do what I can to please her,—ought I not? I have no right to—
Ger. Surely, surely. Yes, yes; I understand. It was not your fault. Only you mustn't marry him, if you—. Thank you for telling me.
Con. I ought to have told you before—before I let him speak to me again. But I didn't think you would care—not much.
Ger. Yes, yes.
Con. (looking up with anxiety) Ah! you are vexed with me, Arthur! I see how wrong it was now. I never saw you look like that. I am very, very sorry. (Bursts into tears.)
Ger. No, no, child! Only it is rather sudden, and I want to think about it. Shall I send William home with you?
Con. No, thank you. I have a cab waiting. You're not angry with your little beggar, Arthur?
Ger. What is there to be angry about, child?
Con. That I—did anything without asking you first.
Ger. Nonsense! You couldn't help it. You're not to blame one bit.