Baroness. Take care! I'm very fragile.
Pendleton. Isn't heliotrope in rhythm with the faint reflection of passion?
Baroness. How brutal of you to have said it.
Pendleton [coming closer to her]. I, too, am in rhythm with heliotrope.
Baroness [with joy]. How glad I am. Thank God you've no desire to kiss my lips.
Pendleton. Only your finger-tips.
[They exchange kisses on finger-tips.]
Pendleton. Your fingers are like soft, pale, waxen tapers!
Baroness. Your kisses are the breathings that light them into quivering flame!
Pendleton. Exquisite—exquisite!