(Minnie goes to him above table L.)
Minnie. Horace, tell me. Do you love me? Really, really love me? Or are you going to marry me because it was your mother’s wish? (Horace kisses her hand.) You mustn’t be angry with me. Perhaps I expect too much, but I think I should be happier if you were just a little bit more—ah, more loving in your manner. Oh, Horace, Horace, I don’t want you to marry me out of pity!
Horace. My dear child, don’t be silly! (Takes her hand.) I do love you! I love you most awfully, but I am not what is called a demonstrative man. Few scientific men are, I fancy.
Minnie. Do you know, I’m almost sorry you are such a scientific man.
Horace. (Minnie takes his left hand) Minnie!
Minnie. Love and science don’t seem to agree.
Horace. Oh, yes, they do. But you don’t understand. I love you in a scientific way.
Minnie. I think I like the old way best. But I suppose I am silly and narrow minded like Aunt Martha. (Kisses him.) There, we won’t say any more about it. Are you comfortable?
Horace. No, not at all. You might get another pillow.
Minnie. (Does so.) Shall I put you out the whiskey?