She shrugged. Evidently she was incredulous. "Are you an actor?" suddenly recollecting where she had picked me up.
"Only in 'All the world's a stage.'"
"I will ask you: Will you do me the honor of telling me who you are?"
"My self-respect denies me that pleasure."
"Fiddlesticks!" This was very human.
"Is it possible that I am interesting you?"—surprised.
"You are a clever man, whoever and whatever you are. Where did you learn to read a woman so readily? Who told you that when you confront a woman with a mystery you trap her interest along with her curiosity? Yes, you are clever. If you told me your name and your occupation I dare say I should straightway become bored."
"Truth still shivers on the well's edge."
She nibbled the rose-leaves.