MYRT. You should have asked that question before you did.
ARTH. If my tongue has been silent, surely my eyes must have spoken for me?
MYRT. (stiffly). Mr. Vallance, you forget yourself!
ARTH. Because I was thinking of you (tenderly).
MYRT. (aside). This is getting too serious. (Aloud.) But you really must excuse me. I have my plants to attend to—a favorite creeper especially that requires nailing up.
ARTH. Let me go with you. I’ll make myself so useful—you’ll see how hard I’ll work. I’ll hold the ladder for you, and hand you up the hammer and tin-tacks!
MYRT. What an exertion! And all for me! Ha! ha! ha!
ARTH. (annoyed). I see how it is, madam; you’ve no feeling, or you wouldn’t treat me so cruelly, so capriciously! If you had the slightest particle of regard for me, you’d let me hand you up the hammer and tin-tacks!
MYRT. You accuse me of caprice! you, who never knew what it is to be in earnest!
ARTH. I am so now, I assure you.