Of course not: I'm not such an idiot. And yet my heart tells me I
should---my fool of a heart. But I'll argue with my heart and bring it
to reason. If I loved you a thousand times, I'll force myself to look
the truth steadily in the face. After all, it's easy to be sensible:
the facts are the facts. What's this place? it's not heaven: it's the
Marine Hotel. What's the time? it's not eternity: it's about half past
one in the afternoon. What am I? a dentist---a five shilling dentist!

GLORIA. And I am a feminine prig.

VALENTINE. (passionately). No, no: I can't face that: I must have
one illusion left---the illusion about you. I love you. (He turns
towards her as if the impulse to touch her were ungovernable: she rises
and stands on her guard wrathfully. He springs up impatiently and
retreats a step.) Oh, what a fool I am!---an idiot! You don't
understand: I might as well talk to the stones on the beach. (He turns
away, discouraged.)

GLORIA (reassured by his withdrawal, and a little remorseful). I am
sorry. I do not mean to be unsympathetic, Mr. Valentine; but what can I
say?

VALENTINE (returning to her with all his recklessness of manner
replaced by an engaging and chivalrous respect). You can say nothing,
Miss Clandon. I beg your pardon: it was my own fault, or rather my own
bad luck. You see, it all depended on your naturally liking me. (She
is about to speak: he stops her deprecatingly.) Oh, I know you mustn't
tell me whether you like me or not; but---

GLORIA (her principles up in arms at once). Must not! Why not? I