Gypsy.
[Enters. George goes out on veranda, looking off.] Mine lady, mine daughter--yes--don't be afraid. Oh, you are such a fine lady--you have lover--you marry, they say----?
Marie.
[Forcing herself to speak.] No; I'm not to be married! It is Gertrude, my foster sister.
Gypsy.
You no marry, eh? Never mind--you marry some day--some day [Examining Marie's dress with her fingers.] What a fine dress you have, and all wool---- [Same with apron.] Oh, and a silk apron--all silk! Give me, give me?
[Marie takes it off and gives it to her.]
Gypsy.
Thank you--thank you!!! [Kisses Marie's sleeve and dress, but when she would kiss her hand, Marie withdraws it quickly.]