BOBBY. Mustn't call you what?
JANE (awkwardly). Darling.
BOBBY. Did I call you darling?
JANE (shortly). Yes.
BOBBY (to himself). "Darling." No, I suppose I mustn't. But it suits
you so awfully well--darling. (She stamps her foot) I'm sorry,
darl---- I mean Jane, but really I can't follow you. Because you're so
frightfully fascinating, that after twenty-four hours of it, I simply
have to tell you how much I love you, then your pride is hurt. But if
you had been so frightfully unattractive that it took me a whole year
to see anything in you at all, then apparently you'd have been awfully
proud.
JANE. You _have_ known me a whole year, Bobby.
BOBBY. Not really, you know. Directly I saw you and Sandy together I
knew I was in love with one of you, but--well, love is a dashed rummy
thing, and I thought it was Sandy. And so I didn't really see you till
last night, when you were so awfully decent to me.
JANE (wistfully). It sounds very well, but the trouble is that it will
sound just as well to the next girl.
BOBBY. What next girl?
JANE. The one you propose to to-morrow.
BOBBY. You know, Jane, when you talk like that I feel that you don't
deserve to be proposed to at all.
JANE (loftily).
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