THE COLLECTED WORKS OF GEORGE BERNARD SHAW. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

      “Do you care one bit for me, Marian?”

      “I do indeed. Believe me, you are one of my special friends.”

      “I do not want to be one of your friends. Will you be my wife?”

      “Sholto!”

      “Will you be my wife?”

      “No. I — —”

      “Pardon me. That is quite sufficient. Good-morning.”

      The moment he interrupted her, a change in her face shewed she had a temper. She did not move a muscle until she heard the house door close behind him. Then she ran upstairs to the drawingroom, where Miss McQuinch was still practising.

      “Oh, Nelly,” she cried, throwing herself into an easy chair, and covering her face with her hands. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” She opened her fingers and looked whimsically at her cousin, who, despising this stage business, said, impatiently:

      “Well?”

      “Do you know what Sholto came for?”

      “To propose to you.”

      “Stop, Nelly. You do not know what horrible things one may say in jest.

       He has proposed.”

      “When will the wedding be?”

      “Dont joke about it, please. I scarcely know how I have behaved, or what the meaning of the whole scene is, yet. Listen. Did you ever suspect that he was — what shall I say? — courting me?”

      “I saw that he was trying to be tender in his own conceited way. I fully expected he would propose some day, if he could once reconcile himself to a wife who was not afraid of him.”

      “And you never told me.”

      “I thought you saw it for yourself; particularly as you encouraged him.”

      “There! The very thing he has been accusing me of! He said I had given him unequivocal tokens — yes, unequivocal tokens — that I was madly in love with him.”

      “What did you say? — if I may ask.”

      “I tried to explain things to him; but he persisted in asking me would I be his wife; and when I refused he would not listen to anything else, and went off in a rage.”

      “Yes, I can imagine Sholto’s feelings on discovering that he had humbled himself in vain. Why did you refuse him?”

      “Why! Fancy being Sholto’s wife! I would as soon think of marrying

       Marmaduke. But I cannot forget what he said about my flirting with him.

       Nelly: will you promise to tell me whenever you think I am behaving in a

       way that might lead anybody on to — like Sholto, you know?”

      “Nonsense! If men choose to make fools of themselves, you cannot prevent them. Hush! I hear someone coming upstairs. It is Marmaduke, I think.”

      “Marmaduke would never come up so slowly. He generally comes up three steps at a time.”

      “Sulky after last night, no doubt. I suppose he wont speak to me.”

      Marmaduke entered listlessly. “Good morning, Marian,” he said, sitting down on an uncomfortable chair. “Good morrow, Nell.”

      Elinor, surprised at the courtesy, looked up and saluted him snappishly.

      “Is there anything the matter, Duke?” said Marian. “Are you ill?”

      “No, I’m all right. Rather busy: thats all.”

      “Busy!” said Elinor. “There must be something even more unusual than that, when you are too low spirited to keep up a quarrel with me. Why dont you sit on the easy chair, or sprawl on the ottoman, after your manner?”

      “Anything for a quiet life,” he replied, moving to the ottoman.

      “You must be hungry,” said Marian, puzzled by his obedience. “Let me get you something.”

      “No, thank you,” said Marmaduke. “I couldnt eat. Just had lunch. Ive come to pack up a few things of mine that you have here.”

      “We have your banjo.”

      “Oh, I dont want that. You may keep it, or put it in the fire, for all I care. I want some clothes I left behind me when we had the theatricals.”

      “Are you leaving London?”

      “Yes. I am getting tired of loafing about here. I think I ought to go home for a while. My mother wants me to.”

      Miss McQuinch, by a subdued but expressive snort, conveyed the most entire scepticism as to his solicitude about his mother. She then turned to the piano calmly, observing, “You have probably eaten something that disagrees with you.”

      “What a shame!” said Marian. “Come, Duke: I have plenty of good news for you. Nelly and I are invited to Carbury Park for the autumn; and there will be no visitors but us three. We shall have the whole place to ourselves.”

      “Time enough to think of the autumn yet awhile,” said Marmaduke, gloomily.

      “Well,” said Miss McQuinch, “here is some better news for you.

       Constance — Lady Constance — will be in town next week.”

      Marmaduke muttered something.

      “I beg your pardon?” said Elinor, quickly.

      “I didnt say anything.”

      “I may be wrong; but I thought I heard you say ‘Hang Lady Constance!’.”

      “Oh, Marmaduke!” cried Marian, affectedly. “How dare you speak so of your betrothed, sir?”

      “Who says she is my betrothed?” he said, turning on her angrily.

      “Why, everybody. Even Constance admits it.”

      “She ought to have the manners to wait until I ask her,” he said, subsiding. “I’m not betrothed to her; and I dont intend to become so in a hurry, if I can help it. But you neednt tell your father I said so. It might get round to my governor; and then there would be a row.”

      “You must marry her some day, you know,” said Elinor, maliciously.

      “Must I? I shant marry at all. I’ve had enough of women.”

      “Indeed? Perhaps they have had enough of you.” Marmaduke reddened. “You seem to have exhausted the joys of this world since the concert last night. Are you jealous of Mr. Conolly’s success?”

      “Your by-play when you found how early it was at the end of the concert was not lost on us,” said Marian demurely. “You were going somewhere, were you not?”

      “Since you are so jolly curious,” said Marmaduke, unreasonably annoyed, “I went to the theatre with Connolly; and my by-play, as you call it, simply meant my delight at finding that we could get rid of you in time to enjoy the evening.”

      “With Conolly!” said Marian, interested. What kind of man is he?”

      “He is nothing particular. You saw him yourself.”

      “Yes. But is he well educated, and — and so forth?”

      “Dont know, I’m sure. We didnt talk about mathematics and classics.”

      “Well; but — do you like him?”

      “I tell you I dont care a damn about him one way or the other,” said Marmaduke, rising and walking away to the window. His cousins, astonished, exchanged looks.

      “Very well, Marmaduke,” said Marian softly, after a pause: “I wont tease you any more. Dont be angry.”

      “You havnt teased me,” said