Stuart. I don’t think it; I know it. Do you think for a moment you could deceive me? But that doesn’t answer my question.
Agnes. As to the justice of my criticism on the way men propose? (With affected coyness.) Perhaps I have had too little experience to speak with knowledge.
Stuart. Mrs. Van Tromp would not dare to say that unmasked. Her face would give her tongue the lie.
Agnes. I fancy you are the first man who ever turned calling one a liar into a compliment.
Stuart. Since that is possible, may not a poetic proposal be also?
Agnes. Perhaps. And when I hear one that does not make me want to laugh, I’ll make public recantation.
Stuart. It’s a bold man or a fool who’d venture after what you have said. And yet I should like to try.
Agnes (laughing). Why, Mr. Stuart, what would you do if I were to take you seriously and say yes?
Stuart (with mock resignation). Bear it—like a man. But I am quite safe from that danger! I trust you won’t mind if in the passion of the moment I call you Frances.
Agnes. This once I’ll condone the liberty.