LETTY. Now I suppose it's my turn.
TOMMY. I say, you know, I feel too idiotically happy to say anything. I feel I want to talk poetry, or rot like that, only—only I don't quite know how to put it.
LETTY (sympathetically). Never mind, darling.
TOMMY. I say, you do understand how frightfully—I say, what about another kiss? (They have one.)
LETTY. Tommy, I just adore you. Only I think you might have been a little more romantic about your proposal.
TOMMY (anxious). I say, do you—
LETTY. Yes. Strictly speaking, I don't think anybody ought to propose with a niblick in his hand.
TOMMY. It just sort of came then. Of course I ought to have put it down.
LETTY. You dear!... "Letting his niblick go for a moment, Mr. T. Todd went on as follows: 'Letitia, my beloved, many moons have waxed and waned since first I cast eyes of love upon thee. An absence of ducats, coupled with the necessity of getting my handicap down to ten, has prevented my speaking ere this. Now at last I am free. My agèd uncle—'"
TOMMY (lovingly). I say, you do pull my leg. Go on doing it always, won't you?