wonderful — not that I don’t hope she’d come to love me in time—
Marsden
[Sharply]
And just what do you expect me to do about all this?
Evans
[Taken aback]
Why—er—nothing, sir. I just thought you ought to know.
[Sheepishly he glances up at ceiling, then down at floor, twiddling his hat]
Marsden
[Thinking—at first with a grudging appreciation and envy]
He thinks he means that . . . pure love! . . . it’s easy to talk . . . he doesn’t know life . . . but he might be good for Nina . . . if she were married to this simpleton would she be faithful? . . . and then I? . . . what a vile thought! . . . I don’t mean that! . . .
[Then forcing a kindly tone]
You see, there’s really nothing I can do about it.
[With a smile]
If Nina will, she will—and if she won’t, she won’t. But I can wish you good luck.
Evans
[Immediately all boyish gratitude]
Thanks! That’s darn fine of you, Mr. Marsden!
Marsden
But I think we’d better let the subject drop, don’t you? We’re forgetting that her father—
