BOBBY. Oh, rot! . . . I say, you do _like_ me, don't you?
MELISANDE. Oh yes. You are a nice, clean-looking Englishman--I don't
say beautiful--
BOBBY. I should hope not!
MELISANDE. Pleasant, good at games, dependable--not very clever,
perhaps, but making enough money--
BOBBY. Well, I mean, that's not so bad.
MELISANDE. Oh, but I want so much more!
BOBBY. What sort of things?
MELISANDE. Oh, Bobby, you're so--so ordinary!
BOBBY. Well, dash it all, you didn't want me to be a freak, did you?
MELISANDE. So--commonplace. So--unromantic.
BOBBY. I say, steady on! I don't say I'm always reading poetry and all
that, if that's what you mean by romantic, but--commonplace! I'm
blessed if I see how you make out that.
MELISANDE. Bobby, I don't want to hurt your feelings--
BOBBY. Go on, never mind my feelings.
MELISANDE. Well then, look at yourself in the glass!
(BOBBY goes anxiously to the glass, and then pulls at his clothes.)
BOBBY (looking back at her). Well?
MELISANDE. Well!
BOBBY. I don't see what's wrong.
MELISANDE. Oh, Bobby, everything's wrong. The man to whom I give
myself must be not only my lover, but my true knight, my hero, my
prince. He must perform deeds of derring-do to win my love.
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