AMY. 'Yes. I must dree my weird. Is it dree your weird, or weird your
dree?'

GINEVRA. 'I think they both do.' She does not really care; nobler
thoughts are surging within her. 'Amy, why can't I make some sacrifice
as well as you?'

Amy seems about to make a somewhat grudging reply, but the unexpected
arrival of the man who has so strangely won her seals her lips.

AMY. 'You!' with a depth of meaning, 'Oh, sir.'

STEVE, the most nervous of the company, 'I felt I must come. Miss
Grey, I am in the greatest distress, as the unhappy cause of all this
trouble.'

AMY, coldly, 'You should have thought of that before.'

STEVE. 'It was dense of me not to understand sooner--very dense.' He
looks at her with wistful eyes. 'Must I marry you, Miss Grey?'

AMY, curling her lip, 'Ah, that is what you are sorry for!'

STEVE. 'Yes--horribly sorry.' Hastily, 'Not for myself. To tell you
the truth, I'd be--precious glad to risk it--I think.'

AMY, with a glance at Ginevra, 'You would?'

STEVE. 'But very sorry for you. It seems such a shame to you--so young