Marg. How good of you! [Taking the book.] Yes, it's mine.
Clem. We will read it together.
Marg. No, Clement, no. I cannot accept so much kindness. [She throws the book into the fireplace.] I don't want to hear of this sort of thing any more.
Gil. [very joyful]. But, dear madame—
Clem. [going toward the fireplace]. Margaret, what have you done?
Marg. [in front of the fireplace, throwing her arms about Clement]. Now, do you believe that I love you!
Gil. [most gleeful]. It appears that I'm entirely de trop here. Dear Madame—Baron—[To himself.] Pity, though, I can't stay for the last chapter. [Goes out.]
[Curtain.]