LORETTA. That’s all.
NED. [With vast incredulity.] All?
LORETTA. [Puzzled.] All?
NED. [Awkwardly.] I mean . . . er . . . nothing worse?
LORETTA. [Puzzled.] Worse? As though there could be. Billy said—
NED. [Interrupting.] When?
LORETTA. This afternoon. Just now. Billy said that my . . . our . . . our . . . our kisses were terrible if we didn’t get married.
NED. What else did he say?
LORETTA. He said that when a woman permitted a man to kiss her she always married him. That it was awful if she didn’t. It was the custom, he said; and I say it is a bad, wicked custom, and it has broken my heart. I shall never be happy again. I know I am terrible, but I can’t help it. I must have been born wicked.
NED. [Absent-mindedly bringing out a cigarette and striking a match.] Do you mind if I smoke? [Coming to himself again, and flinging away match and cigarette.] I beg your pardon. I don’t want to smoke. I didn’t mean that at all. What I mean is . . . [He bends over LORETTA, catches her hands in his, then sits on arm of chair, softly puts one arm around her, and is about to kiss her.]