Brodie. Kind? I am kind. I’m only ill and worried, can’t you see? Whimpering? I knew it! Sit down, you goose! Where do you women get your tears?
Mary. Why are you so cross with me? Oh, Will, you have forgot your sister! Remember, dear, that I have nobody but you. It’s your own fault, Will, if you’ve taught me to come to you for kindness, for I always found it. And I mean you shall be kind to me again. I know you will, for this is my great need, and the day I’ve missed my mother sorest. Just a nice look, dear, and a soft tone in your voice, to give me courage, for I can tell you nothing till I know that you’re my own brother once again.
Brodie. If you’d take a hint, you’d put it off till to-morrow. But I suppose you won’t. On, then, I’m listening. I’m listening!
Mary. Mr. Leslie has asked me to be his wife.
Brodie. He has, has he?
Mary. And I have consented.
Brodie. And . . . ?
Mary. You can say that to me? And that is all you have to say?
Brodie. O no, not all.
Mary. Speak out, sir. I am not afraid.