I mean Melisande.
MELISANDE. You may call me Sandy.
BOBBY. Well, you see what I mean, Sandy.
MELISANDE. It isn't that, Bobby. It isn't that.
BOBBY. You know, I was thinking about it last night--afterwards, you
know--and I began to see, I began to see that perhaps you were right.
I mean about my not being romantic and--and all that. I mean, I'm
rather an ordinary sort of chap, and----
MELISANDE (sadly). We are all rather ordinary sort of chaps.
BOBBY (eagerly). No, no. No, that's where you're wrong, Sandy. I mean
Melisande. You _aren't_ ordinary. I don't say you'd be throwing
yourself away on me, but--but I think you could find somebody more
suitable. (Earnestly). I'm sure you could. I mean somebody who would
remember to call you Melisande, and who would read poetry with you
and--and all that. I mean, there are lots of fellows----
MELISANDE. I don't understand. Don't you _want_ to marry me now?
BOBBY (with dignity). I don't want to be married out of pity.
MELISANDE (coldly). I have told you that it isn't out of pity.
BOBBY. Well, what _is_ it out of? I mean, after what you said
yesterday about my tie, it can't be love. If you really loved me----
MELISANDE. Are you under the impression that I am proposing to you?
BOBBY (taken aback).
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