DICK. I swear I'm not thinking of myself.
MISS BEECH. Did y' ever know anybody that swore they were?
DICK. Oh! shut up!
MISS BEECH. You'd better go in and get yourself a partner.
DICK. [With pale desperation.] Look here, Peachey, I simply loathe all those girls.
MISS BEECH. Ah-h! [Ironically.] Poor lot, are n't they?
DICK. All right; chaff away, it's good fun, isn't it? It makes me sick to dance when Joy's lying there. Her last night, too!
MISS BEECH. [Sidling to him.] You're a good young man, and you 've got a good heart.
[She takes his hand, and puts it to her cheek.]
DICK. Peachey—I say, Peachey d' you think there 's—I mean d' you think there'll ever be any chance for me?