Miss Sna. Oh!
[Exeunt MISS SNARE and BOSS; PINKEY rises, and makes an effort to run out of the room; MISS SKYLARK rises.
Miss Sky. I am sorry to see you so embarrassed, Mr. Pinkey; the indignation that I expressed this afternoon when I returned your letters, has been entirely removed by your generous conduct in defending me. Don’t attempt to speak just now; because I know you can’t if you were to try. Think of what I have said; but pray avoid my presence till you have acquired sufficient courage to express your wishes. Good evening, I leave you like—(Singing.)
“The last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
Whose lovely companions
Are faded and gone.”
[Exit.
Pin. (Rising with energy.) I must and I will shake off my shyness. What can I do? I’ll run home and try what a bottle or two of port—or sherry—or a bottle of each will do for me. I cannot live this life, it’s killing me by inches. Oh! she’s coming back—I will make a desperate rush—a kind of despair seems to fill my heart that gives me a sort of courage; and, if it isn’t of the right sort, it may answer just as well. I wont wait to look at her, that always does for me—I wont wait to think—I’ll only say—“Will you be mine.” Then if she says “Yes,” there’s an end of the matter. No more speeches—all rubbish—a few words—short and to the point, that’s the way—I know it—I feel it.