Captain G.—Who but you had the right? Now, Little Featherweight, have you ever been mixed up in any dark and dismal tragedy?
Mrs. G.—If you call me Mrs. Gadsby, p'raps I'll tell.
Captain G. (throwing parade rasp into his voice).—Mrs. Gadsby confess!
Mrs. G.—Good Heavens, Phil! I never knew that you could speak in that terrible voice.
Captain G.—You don't know half my accomplishments yet. Wait till we are settled in the plains and I'll show you how I bark at my troop. You were going to say, darling?
Mrs. G.—I—I don't like to, after that voice. (Tremulously.} Phil, never you dare to speak to me in that tone, whatever I may do!
Captain G.—My poor, little love! Why, you're shaking all over! I am so sorry! Of course I never meant to upset you. Don't tell me anything. I'm a brute.
Mrs. G.—No, you aren't, and I will tell. . . . There was a man.
Captain G. (lightly).—Was there? Lucky man!
Mrs. G. (in a whisper).—And I thought I cared for him.
Captain G.—Still luckier man! Well?
Mrs. G.—And I thought I cared for him—and I didn't—and then you came—and I cared for you very, very much indeed. That's all. (Face hidden.} You aren't angry, are you?
Captain G.—Angry? Not in the least. (Aside.) Good Lord, what have I done to deserve this angel?
Mrs. G. (aside).—And he never asked for the name! How funny men are! But perhaps it's as well.
Captain G.—That man will go to Heaven because you once thought you cared for him. 'Wonder if you'll ever drag me up there?
Mrs. G. (firmly).—'Shan't go if you don't.
Captain G.—Thanks. I say, Pussy, I don't know much about your religious beliefs. You were brought up to believe in a Heaven and all that, weren't you?
