"Good stuff should not be thrown away, should it? Like good pearls."
"I want to talk to you—away from this rabble. Where can we go?"
"I will take you over the college." She led the way into the library, a retired place, where she sat down. "Do you ask how I am getting on?"
"No, I don't." He remained standing. "You'll never go on the stage with my consent."
"We shall see." By her quick dancing eye, by her mobile lips, by the brightness of her quaint, attractive face, which looked as if it could be drawn into shapes like an india-rubber face, she belied his prophecy. "Besides, Hilarie wants me to become a tragic actress. Please remember, once more, Humphrey, that what Hilarie wishes I must do. I owe everything to Hilarie—everything."
"You drive me mad with your perverseness, Molly."
"I am going to please myself. Please understand that, even if I were engaged to you, I would keep my independence. If you don't like that, take back your offer. Take it back at once." She held out both her hands, as if she was carrying it about.
"You know I can't. Molly, I love you too much, though you are a little devil."
"Then let me alone. If one is born in a theatre, one belongs to a theatre. I would rather be born in a theatre than in a West End square. Humphrey, you make me sorry that I ever listened to you."
"Well, go and listen to that fiddler fellow who calls you Molly. Curse his impudence!"