Denham.

Fitzgerald, you know Vane, of course?

Fitzgerald.

Upon my word I scarcely know. _Do_ we know each other, Vane?

Vane.

My dear Fitzgerald, when will you learn that you can never know me?
(_Crosses to picture._)

Fitzgerald.

Then, my dear Vane, I must learn to be resigned. (_Fitzgerald turns
away, and takes up Gyp. Vane looks at the picture._) What's this?
"Autour du Marriage," eh? (_Opens book, and reads, then lies on
sofa, still reading._)

Vane.

Ah, the Brynhild! My dear Denham, why _will_ you do such things?

Denham.

What have I done?

Vane.