SHE: I’m not really feminine, you know—in my mind.
HE: (Interested) Go on.
SHE: No, you—you go on—you’ve made me talk about myself.
That’s against the rules.
HE: Rules?
SHE: My own rules—but you—Oh, Amory, I hear you’re brilliant.
The family expects so much of you.
HE: How encouraging!
SHE: Alec said you’d taught him to think.
Did you?
I didn’t believe any one could.
HE: No.
I’m really quite dull. (He evidently doesn’t intend this to be taken seriously.)
SHE: Liar.
HE: I‘m—I’m religious—I’m literary. I’ve—I’ve even written poems.
SHE: Vers libre—splendid! (She declaims.)“The trees are green, The birds are singing in the trees, The girl sips her poison The bird flies away the girl dies.”
HE: (Laughing) No, not that kind.
SHE: (Suddenly) I like you.
HE: Don’t.
SHE: Modest too—
HE: I’m afraid of you.
I’m always afraid of a girl—until I’ve kissed her.
SHE: (Emphatically) My dear boy, the war is over.
HE: So I’ll always be afraid of you.
SHE: (Rather sadly) I suppose you will.
(A slight hesitation on both their parts)
HE: (After due consideration) Listen.
This is a frightful thing to ask.
SHE: (Knowing what’s coming) After five minutes.
HE: But will you—kiss me?
Or are you afraid?
SHE: I’m never afraid—but your reasons are so poor.
HE: Rosalind, I really want to kiss you.
SHE: So do I.
(They kiss—definitely and thoroughly.)
HE: (After a breathless second) Well, is your curiosity satisfied?
SHE: Is yours?
HE: No, it’s only aroused. (He looks it.)
SHE: (Dreamily) I’ve kissed dozens of men.
I suppose I’ll kiss dozens more.
HE: (Abstractedly) Yes, I suppose you could—like that.
SHE: Most people like the way I kiss.
HE: (Remembering himself) Good Lord, yes.
Kiss me once more, Rosalind.
SHE: No—my curiosity is generally satisfied at one.
HE: (Discouraged) Is that a rule?
SHE: I make rules to fit the cases.
HE: You and I are somewhat alike—except that I’m years older in experience.
SHE: How old are you?
HE: Almost twenty-three.