Edward. [Submissively.] I always come at two o'clock.
Ines. It is now three.
Edward. Is it possible? [Looks at his watch.] No, my beloved, it is only a quarter to two.
Ines. [Authoritatively.] It is three o'clock.
Edward. [Shows her his watch.] A quarter to two. Are you convinced? [Points to the clock on mantelpiece.] And look there—it is the same hour.
Ines. [Offended.] Well, I suppose you are right. What an accomplished lover to haggle over minutes! It is always too early to come, too late to stay with his Inés, and he subjects the beats of his heart to the measurements of his time-piece.
Edward. [Beseechingly.] Inés.
Ines. Go away, go away. It is not yet two—it still wants fifteen minutes to the hour. Go and take a turn about the streets, and look at the people, and come back at two sharp.
Edward. Inés!
Inés. That is your hour for coming. A nice thing indeed if you were to come earlier. What would the Astronomical Observatory think of that?