Mr. Jarvis (aside)—That’s a fetching way she has of raising her eyes. Wonder what she meant by that just now. (Aloud.) How becoming the pale green of the leaves is to your hair.
Miss Paysley—Turn your hands over, please. Now put your right one directly under the light. Oh!
Mr. Jarvis—What do you see?
Miss Paysley—What strange, strange nails. I’ve read about it, but I’ve never seen it before. Not so marked! It’s the perfect type!
Mr. Jarvis (interested in spite of himself)—What does it mean?
Miss Paysley (embarrassed, hesitating)—It isn’t pleasant.
Mr. Jarvis (looking at her)—Go on!
Miss Paysley (reluctantly)—Well, they mean—consumption! (Aside.) They’ll make him serious—besides, it is the type.
Mr. Jarvis (rising to the bait)—Why, I haven’t a consumptive relative. (Aside.) She is honest. And I was expecting the old Girdle of Venus gag. (Aloud.) What does this line mean, and why are the veins of my hands so red?
Miss Paysley (aside)—You don’t catch this child this way. No compliments about your impressible temperaments from me. (Aloud, meditatingly, slowly.) Those red lines—sometimes—they mean insanity—but in your case——