Oh, in conservatories in town, John's camp in the North Woods, motor rides in the country—once or twice out here on this very terrace, when I've felt sentimental in the moonlight.
Rex
[recoiling]
Oh! Jean! I never supposed you were that sort!
Jean
[with distaste]
Oh, I don't make a habit of it! I'm not that sort. But ... well, this isn't all I could tell you about myself, Rex.
Rex
Don't!... Oh, what do you mean—quick.
Jean