John: It’s nobody’s fault. We’re different—that’s all.
Frankie: Do you want to marry this girl?
John: No.
Frankie: I don’t understand——
John: Frankie, don’t cry.
Frankie (through her tears): And this morning I was talking to mother about furnishing ... and the little house ... it’s arranged, nearly ... what’ll everybody say? Oh, it’s too bad of you!
John: I’m awfully sorry; I ought to have had it out before; I’m sorry; don’t cry....
Frankie: Don’t talk then.
[But she cannot stop the tears and escapes from the room. The unhappy John remaining, throws himself into the depths of his chair; there is a knock at the door.
John: Come in.