AMY. ‘I think I do, but what do you mean?’
GINEVRA. ‘I mean—the great thing.’
AMY. ‘Then it is, yes. Ginevra, I am affianced to the man, Steve!’ Ginevra could here quickly drink a glass of water if there was one in the room.
GINEVRA, wandering round her old friend, ‘You seem the same, Amy, yet somehow different.’
AMY, rather complacently, ‘That is just how I feel. But I must not think of myself. They are overhead, Ginevra. There is an awful scene taking place—up there. She is telling father all.’
GINEVRA. ‘Confessing?’
AMY. ‘Everything—in a noble attempt to save me from a widowed marriage.’
GINEVRA. ‘But I thought she was such a hard woman.’
AMY. ‘Not really. To the world perhaps; but I have softened her. All she needed, Ginevra, to bring out her finer qualities was a strong nature to lean upon; and she says that she has found it in me. At the theatre and all the way home—’
GINEVRA. ‘Then you did go to the theatre. Why?’