MARY. O no, Will, they're not all so happy, and they're not all Brodies. But I'll be a woman in one thing. For I've come to claim your promise, dear; and I'm going to be petted and comforted and made much of, altho' I don't need it, and . . . Why, Will, what's wrong with you? You look . . . I don't know what you look like.
BRODIE. O nothing! A splitting head and an aching heart. Well! you've come to speak to me. Speak up. What is it? Come, girl! What is it? Can't you speak?
MARY. Why, Will, what is the matter?
BRODIE. I thought you had come to tell me something. Here I am. For God's sake out with it, and don't stand beating about the bush.
MARY. O be kind, be kind to me.
BRODIE. Kind? I am kind. I'm only ill and worried, can't you see? Whimpering? I knew it! Sit down, you goose! Where
