(Gazing around) This is sort of a new wrinkle for me.
She: This is No Man’s Land.
He: This is where you—you—(pause)
She: Yes—all those things. (She crosses to the bureau.) See, here’s my rouge—eye pencils.
He: I didn’t know you were that way.
She: What did you expect?
He: I thought you’d be sort of—sort of—sexless, you know, swim and play golf.
She: Oh, I do—but not in business hours.
He: Business?
She: Six to two—strictly.
He: I’d like to have some stock in the corporation.
She: Oh, it’s not a corporation—it’s just “Rosalind, Unlimited.” Fifty-one shares, name, good-will, and everything goes at $25,000 a year.
He: (Disapprovingly) Sort of a chilly proposition.
She: Well, Amory, you don’t mind—do you? When I meet a man that doesn’t bore me to death after two weeks, perhaps it’ll be different.
He: Odd, you have the same point of view on men that I have on women.
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. You?
She: Nineteen—just.
He: I suppose you’re the product of a fashionable school.
She: No—I’m fairly raw material. I was expelled from Spence—I’ve forgotten why.
He: What’s your general trend?
She: Oh, I’m bright, quite selfish, emotional when aroused, fond of admiration——
He: (Suddenly) I don’t want to fall in love with you——
She: (Raising her eyebrows) Nobody asked you to.
He: (Continuing coldly) But I probably will. I love your mouth.
She: Hush! Please don’t fall in love with my mouth—hair, eyes, shoulders, slippers—but not my mouth. Everybody falls in love with my mouth.
He: It’s quite beautiful.
She: It’s too small.
He: No it isn’t—let’s see.
(He kisses her again with the same thoroughness.)
She: (Rather
