Basil.
Hilda, what are you going to say to him?
Hilda.
I don't know—perhaps, yes?
Basil.
Oh, Hilda, Hilda, you don't care for him?
Hilda.
[Shrugging her shoulders.] He amuses me. I dare say we should get on very well together.
Basil.
[Passionately.] Oh, you can't. You don't know what you're doing. I thought—I thought you loved me.