Ed. Like that!  Good Heavens.  ANGIE, am I in the habit of making hideous grimaces before a looking-glass?  Do you suppose I am given to over-indulgence in cod-liver oil and whatever the other beastliness was?  Am I acrobatic in my calmer moments?  Did you ever know me sing—­with or without a broom?  I’m a shy man by nature (pathetically), more shy than you think, perhaps,—­and in my normal condition, I should be the last person to prance about in a gauze skirt for the amusement of a couple of hundred idiots?  I don’t believe I did, either!

Ang. (impressed by his evident sincerity).  But you said you knew what you were about all the time!

Ed. I thought so, then.  Now—­well, hang it, I suppose there’s more in this infernal Mesmerism than I fancied.  There, it’s no use talking about it—­it’s done.  You—­you won’t mind shaking hands before I go, will you?  Just for the last time?

Ang. (alarmed).  Why—­where are you going?

Ed. (desperate).  Anywhere—­go out and start on a ranche, or something, or join the Colonial Police force.  Anything’s better than staying on here after the stupendous ass I’ve made of myself!

Ang. But—­but, EDWIN, I daresay nobody noticed it much.

Ed. According to you, I must have been a pretty conspicuous object.

Ang. Yes—­only, you see, I—­I daresay they’d only think you were a confederate or something—­no, I don’t mean that—­but, after all, indeed you didn’t make such very awful faces.  I—­I liked some of them!

Ed. (incredulously).  But you said they haunted you—­and then the oil, and the somersaults, and the ballet-dancing.  No, it’s no use, ANGELINA, I can see you’ll never get over this.  It’s better to part and have done with it!

Ang. (gradually retracting).  Oh, but listen.  I—­I didn’t mean quite all I said just now.  I mixed things up.  It was really whiskey he gave you, only he said it was paraffin, and so you wouldn’t drink it, and you did sing, but it was only about some place where an old horse died, and it was somebody else who had the broom!  And you didn’t dance nearly so much as the others, and—­and whatever you did, you were never in the least ridiculous. (Earnestly).  You weren’t, really, EDWIN!

Ed. (relieved).  Well.  I thought you must have been exaggerating a little.  Why, look here, for all you know, you may have been mistaking somebody else for me all the time—­don’t you see?

Ang. I—­I am almost sure I did, now.  Yes, why, of course—­how stupid I have been!  It was someone very like you—­not you at all!

Ed. (resentfully).  Well, I must say, ANGELINA, that to give a fellow a fright like this, all for nothing—­

Ang. Yes—­yes, it was all for nothing, it was so silly of me.  Forgive me, EDWIN, please!