Oh, please!... some one will come.
Rex
[with the intoxication of such moments]
I don't care who comes—I love you.
Jean
No ... let me go.
Rex
Not till you kiss me, Jean. [Jean hesitates, brushes his cheek lightly with her lips, and in pretty confusion tries to escape.] Not till you say you love me, Jean. [Eyes hidden in his coat, she bobs her head. He laughs and loves it.] Say it!
Jean
I—er—do.