ACT III
rightly know as how she’d like me coming here after her . . . it might look like spying. And it wasn’t that. (He stops nervously.) You see . . . well, I brought her umbrella.
Jenny (at a loss) : Yes?
Mr. Grey : I thought as how she might need it, walking home.
Jenny : That was very thoughtful of you—but the car will take her home.
Mr. Grey : I know. She’s come home in the car every day this week . . . and it does give the neighbours something to talk about. I did suggest she might stop it at the corner . . . just for the look of the thing. But she didn’t like to ask the chauffeur. Shy-like you know.
Jenny (puzzled) : I see.
Mr. Grey : Still, the umbrella was an excuse.
Jenny : An excuse for what?
Mr. Grey : Well . . . for coming, like.
Jenny : I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why did you come?
Mr. Grey : That’s just it. (With a sudden boldness) Might I speak to you, miss?
Jenny : But of course. Won’t you sit down?
Mr. Grey : Thank you.
[He sits, nursing his hat.
Jenny : Well, what is it?
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