"Deceiving me--!"
"With every moment he lives!"
"But--oh, God-mother--!"
"Cleone,--he is not what he seems!"
"Deceiving me?"
"His very name is false!"
"What do you mean? Ah no, no--I'm sure he would not, and yet--oh,
God-mother,--why?"
"Because--hush, Cleone--he's immensely rich, one of the wealthiest
young men in London, and--hush! He would be--loved for himself alone.
So, Cleone,--listen,--he may perhaps come to you with some wonderful
story of poverty and humble birth. He may tell you his father was
only a--a farmer, or a tinker, or a--an inn-keeper. Oh dear me,--so
delightfully romantic! Therefore, loving him as you do--"
"I don't!"
"With every one of your yellow hairs--"
"I do--not!"
"From the sole of your foot--"
"God-mother!"
"To the crown of your wilful head,--oh, Youth, Youth!--you may let
your heart answer as it would. Oh Fire! Passion! Romance! (yes, yes,
Jack,--we're coming!) Your heart, I say, Cleone, may have its way,
because with all his wealth he has a father who--hush!--at one time
was the greatest man in all England,--a powerful man, Clo,--a famous
man, indeed a man of the most--striking capabilities. So, when your
heart--(dear me, how impatient Jack is!) Oh, supper? Excellent, for,
child, now I come to think of it, I'm positively swooning with hunger!"