Marg. Yes. And while you are still here. If I make a clean breast of everything now maybe he'll forgive me.
Gil. And me—what about me? I have a higher mission in the world, I think, than to suffer myself to be shot down like a mad dog by a jealous baron. [The bell rings.]
Marg. It's he! It's he.
Gil. Understand, you're not to breathe a word.
Marg. I've made up my mind.
Gil. Indeed, have a care. For, if you do, I shall sell my hide at a good price. I shall hurl such naked truths at him that he'll swear no baron heard the like of them.
Clem. [entering, somewhat surprised, but quite cool and courteous]. Oh, Mr. Gilbert! Am I right?
Gil. The very same, Baron. I'm traveling south, and I couldn't repress the desire to pay my respects to madame.
Clem. Ah, indeed. [Pause.] Pardon me, it seems I've interrupted your conversation. Pray, don't let me disturb you.
Gil. What were we talking about just now?