y, you know that isn't fair.

MELISANDE (picking up her book). Father and Jane are outside, Bobby,
if you have anything you wish to tell them. But I suppose they know
already. (She pretends to read.)

BOBBY. I say, you know--(He doesn't quite know what to say. There is
an awkward silence. Then he says humbly) I'm awfully sorry, Melisande.
Please forgive me.

MELISANDE (looking at him gravely). That's nice of you, Bobby. Please
forgive _me_. I wasn't fair.

BOBBY. I swear I never said anything to anybody else, only your
mother. And it sort of came out with _her_. She began talking about
you--

MELISANDE. _I_ know.

BOBBY. But I never told anybody else.

MELISANDE. It wouldn't be necessary if you told Mother.

BOBBY. I'm awfully sorry, but I really don't see why you should mind
so much. I mean, I know I'm not anybody very much, but I can't help
falling in love with you, and--well, it _is_ a sort of a compliment to
you, isn't it?--even if it's only me.

MELISANDE. Of course it is, Bobby, and I do thank you for the
compliment. But mixing Mother up in it makes it all so--so unromantic.
(After a pause) Sometimes I think I shall never marry.

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. Oh, how
can you perform deeds of derring-do in a st