CONNAGE: The poor boy looks so miserable every time he comes.
ROSALIND: That was one of those romantic, pre-battle affairs.

They're all wrong.
MRS.

CONNAGE: (Her say said) At any rate, make us proud of you to-night.
ROSALIND: Don't you think I'm beautiful?
MRS.

CONNAGE: You know you are.
(From down-stairs is heard the moan of a violin being tuned, the roll of a drum.MRS.CONNAGE turns quickly to her daughter.) MRS.

CONNAGE: Come! ROSALIND: One minute! (Her mother leaves.