ndefinitely.

JINNY. I've been too horrid and nasty for words this morning, Jack--I'm
so sorry.

AUSTIN. It's over and forgotten now.

JINNY. You _do_ forgive me?

AUSTIN. Of course, dear; only I want to say this one thing to you: to
suspect unjustly a _true_ love is to insult that love!

JINNY. I didn't really suspect you.

AUSTIN. Of course I know you didn't; this is only by way of a
grandfatherly warning! It is possible to insult a true love too
often--and love can die--

JINNY. Sh! don't, please, say any more. You have forgiven me, haven't
you?

AUSTIN. Yes!

JINNY. Then kiss me!

AUSTIN. [_Smiling._] Here! My dear, some one will see us!

JINNY. No, only Apollo; see, there's no one else about--it's luncheon
hour!

AUSTIN. But--

[_Taking her hand._

JINNY. [_Pulling him._] Come along, then, behind the statue. No one will
see us there!

[_They are behind the statue a moment and then come around the other
side._

JINNY. There! no one saw us, and I'm so _happy_, are you?

AUSTIN. _"So happy!"_

[_JINNY takes his arm and they go to the Left entrance. She stops and
looks up at him._

JINNY. Are my eyes _green_ now?

AUSTIN. Now they're _blue_!

JINNY. Hurrah! and I'm going, from now on, to be _so good_, you won't
know me.

[_And hugging his arm tight they go out as_--

THE CURTAIN FALLS

ACT III

(_Three weeks later_)

_The Austins' library; a warm, attractive room, with dark woodwork, and
the walls hung in crimson brocade; Dutch marqueterie furniture; blue
and white china on the mantel and tops of the book shelves; carbon
photographs of pictures by Reynolds, Ronney, and Gainsborough on the
wall. There is a double window at the back. A door at Right leads to
the hall, and another on the Left side of the room leads to JINNY's
own room. MRS. TILLMAN sits at a pianola Right, playing "Tell me,
Pretty Maiden"; she stops once in a while, showing that she is
unaccustomed to the instrument. JINNY enters from Left, singing as
her mother plays._

JINNY. Darling mother!

[_She puts her arms about her and kisses her._

[_They come away from the pianola together, to a big arm-chair._

MRS. TILLMAN. I really must get one of those sewing-machine pianos for
your father. I believe even he could play it, and it would be lots of
amusement for us.

JINNY. Jack adores it; I gave it to him for an anniversary present.

MRS. TILLMAN. What anniversary?