edward. What satisfaction did you find in refusing me?
alice. [as she weighs the matter.] I find satisfaction in feeling that I'm wanted.
edward. Without any intention of giving yourself . . throwing yourself away.
alice. [teasing his sudden earnestness.] Ah, now you come from mere vanity to serious questions.
edward. Mine were always serious questions to you.
alice. That's a fault I find in you, Edward; all questions are serious to you. I call you a perfect little pocket-guide to life . . all questions and answers; what to eat, drink and avoid, what to believe and what to say . . all in the same type, the same importance attached to each.
edward. [sententiously.] Well . . everything matters.
alice. [making a face.] D'you plan out every detail of your life . . every step you take . . every mouthful?
edward. That would be waste of thought. One must lay down principles.
alice. I prefer my plan, I always do what I know I want to do. Crack me another nut.