You seem upset to-day.

JACQUES DE RANDOL

No, no, but I hunger to be alone with you. You are mine, are you not?
Or, I should say, I am yours. Isn't it true? I spend my life in looking
for opportunities to meet you. Our love is made up of chance meetings,
of casual bows, of stolen looks, of slight touches--nothing more. We
meet on the avenue in the morning--a bow; we meet at your house, or at
that of some other acquaintance--twenty words; we dine somewhere at the
same table, too far from each other to talk, and I dare not even look at
you because of hostile eyes. Is that love? We are simply acquaintances.

MME. DE SALLUS

Then you would like to carry me off?

JACQUES DE RANDOL

Unhappily, I cannot.

MME. DE SALLUS

Then what?

JACQUES DE RANDOL

I do not know. I only know this life is wearing me out.