Eve. Ted Athelney a lover of mine! Oh, that’s too absurd. Ted Athelney—that great, clumsy, middle-aged, awkward, good-natured, apple-faced man, a lover of anybody’s, and least of all, of mine! Why he’s forty! Oh, it’s shocking—it’s horrible! I won’t hear any thing so dreadful of any one I love so much.
Fred. You admit that you love him?
Eve. Oh, yes, I love him—but I don’t love him. (Nestling against Fred.) Don’t you understand the difference?
Fred. I don’t like his calling you Eve.
Eve. Why you wouldn’t have him—oh, you never could want Ted Athelney to call me Miss Van Brugh?
Fred. Then he kisses you.
Eve. Of course he does, dear. Kisses me? So does mamma!
Fred. No doubt, but there’s some difference.
Eve. A difference! What difference?
Fred. This, if no other: that I object to the one, and don’t object to the other. (Turns away.)