CHARTERIS. Grace: you utterly misunderstand the origin of my
philanderings. (Sits down beside her.) Listen to me: am I a
particularly handsome man?

GRACE (turning to him as if astonished at his conceit). No!

CHARTERIS (triumphantly). You admit it. Am I a well dressed man?

GRACE. Not particularly.

CHARTERIS. Of course not. Have I a romantic mysterious charm about
me?--do I look as if a secret sorrow preyed on me?--am I gallant
to women?

GRACE. Not in the least.

CHARTERIS. Certainly not. No one can accuse me of it. Then whose fault
is it that half the women I speak to fall in love with me? Not mine:
I hate it: it bores me to distraction. At first it flattered
me--delighted me--that was how Julia got me, because she was the first
woman who had the pluck to make me a declaration. But I soon had
enough of it; and at no time have I taken the initiative and
persecuted women with my advances as women have persecuted me. Never.
Except, of course, in your case.

GRACE. Oh, you need not make any exception. I had a good deal of
trouble to induce you to come and see us. You were very coy.

CHARTERIS (fondly, taking her hand). With you, dearest, the coyness
was sheer coquetry. I loved you from the first, and fled only that you