MARGARET: And you rockon that I have you to thank for
nem?
GILBERT: would you have written them if I had not existed?
re'nt they about me?
MARGARET: No, they are not about you!
GILBERT: I am dumbfounded. hall I remind you of the
Vituations dealt with in your most beautiful poems?
MARGARET: They were built on an ideal.
CILBERT: (Points his finger at her).
MARGARET: of which you were acidently the original.
GILBERT: Ah, that's rich. Do you know what the French
would say in a case of that kind 7 "Cest de la litterature",
MARGARET: (minacking him) "Ce n'est pas de la litterature".
That is the truth, the whole truth. Or do you really be-
lieve that by the slim youth I meant you? That I sang of
your curls? You were already fat at that time, and
those were never curls (she catches hold of his hair).
GILBERT: (takes advantage of this opportunity, setzes her
hand and kisses it).
MARGARET: (Milder) What is the matter with you?
GILBERT: At that time you held them as such - or at least,
you called them curla. But what won't one do for the
Verse; for cuphony? In one of my sonnets I called you my
clever maiden, when at the same time you were... But no,