Aunt Eliza.
[Smiling.] Upon my soul, it looks very much like it.
Blenkinsop.
What did you expect? You’ve played on my heart-strings as though they were an instrument that had no feeling. You’ve put a caress into every tone of your voice.
Mrs. Dot.
[Ruefully.] Of course, I am fascinating. I can’t deny that.
Blenkinsop.
When you touched my hand, every nerve of my body thrilled.
Mrs. Dot.
You’re not really in love with me?