Gil. So you deceived him with a tenor? I didn't know that.
Marg. Whoever said so?
Gil. Why, you yourself, just now.
Marg. How so? I say the heroine of the book deceives her husband with a baritone.
Gil. Bass would have been more sublime, mezzo-soprano more piquant.
Marg. Then she doesn't go to Munich, but to Dresden; and there, has an affair with a sculptor.
Gil. That's me—veiled.
Marg. Very much veiled, I rather fear. The sculptor, as it happens, is young, handsome and a genius. In spite of that she leaves him.
Gil. For—
Marg. Guess?