Marl. (Kneeling.) Does this look like security? Does this look like confidence? No, madam; every moment that shows me your merit, only serves to increase my diffidence and confusion. Here let me continue—
Sir Charles. I can hold it no longer. Charles, Charles, how hast thou deceived me! Is this your indifference, your uninteresting conversation?
Hard. Your cold contempt; your formal interview? What have you to say now?
Marlow.—"Does this look like security?"—p. 374.
Marl. That I'm all amazement! What can it mean?
Hard. It means, that you can say and unsay things at pleasure. That you can address a lady in private, and deny it in public; that you have one story for us, and another for my daughter.
Marl. Daughter!—this lady your daughter!
Hard. Yes, sir, my only daughter. My Kate, whose else should she be?
Marl. Oh, the devil!