You let your hair down and flirt with me and laugh and go
home again, but _you_ can't forget. Why should I?
MELISANDE (furiously). How dare you say I flirted with you?
GERVASE. How dare you say I laughed at you?
MELISANDE. Do you think I knew you would be there when I went up to
the wood?
GERVASE. Do you think _I_ knew you would be there when _I_ went up?
MELISANDE. Then why were you there all dressed up like that?
GERVASE. My car broke down and I spent the night in it. I went up the
hill to look for breakfast.
MELISANDE. Breakfast! That's all you think about.
GERVASE (cheerfully). Well, it's always cropping up.
MELISANDE (in disgust). Oh! (She moves away from him and then turns
round holding out her hand) Good-bye, Mr. Mallory.
GERVASE (taking it). Good-bye, Miss Knowle. . . . (Gently) May I kiss
your hands, Melisande?
MELISANDE (pathetically). Oh, don't! (She hides her face in them.)
GERVASE. Dear hands. . . . May I kiss your lips, Melisande? (She says
nothing. He comes closer to her) Melisande!
(He is about to put his arms round her, but she breaks away from him.)
MELISANDE. Oh, don't, don't! What's the good of pretending? It was
only pretence this morning--what's the good of going on with it? I
thought you were so different from other men, but you're just the
same, just the same.
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