John. Yes, and I remember one incident in particular. Um, yes—I mustn’t speak about that.

Julie. Oh, yes—you tell me. What? Just to please me.

John. No, really I can’t now. Perhaps some other time.

Julie. Some other time means never. Come, is it then so dangerous to tell me now?

John. It’s not dangerous, but it’s much best to leave it alone. Just look at her over there. [He points to CHRISTINE, who has gone to sleep in a chair by the fireplace.]

Julie. She’ll make a cheerful wife. Perhaps she snores as well.

John. She doesn’t do that—she speaks in her sleep.

Julie. How do you know that she speaks in her sleep?

John. I’ve heard it. [Pause—in which they look at each other.]

Julie. Why don’t you sit down?

John. I shouldn’t take such a liberty in your presence.

Julie. And if I older you to—

John. Then I obey.

Julie. Sit down, but, wait a moment, can’t you give me something to drink?

John. I don’t know what’s in the refrigerator. I don’t think there’s anything except beer.

Julie. That’s not to be sniffed at. Personally I’m so simple in my tastes that I prefer it to wine.

John. [Takes a bottle out of the refrigerator and draws the cork; he looks in the cupboard for a glass and plate, on which he serves the beer.] May I offer you some?

Julie. Thanks. Won’t you have some as well?

John. I’m not what you might call keen on beer, but if you order me, Miss

Julie. Order? It seems to me that as a courteous cavalier you might keep your partner company.