DEVENISH. I don't quite see your objection to poetry.
DELIA. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me all about it.
DEVENISH. Then you are thinking of marrying me!
DELIA. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to.
DEVENISH. It would be rather fun if you did. And look here—I will be a statesman, if you like, and go up to Downing Street every day, and come back in the evening and tell you all about it.
DELIA. How nice of you!
DEVENISH (magnificently, holding up his hand to Heaven). Farewell, Parnassus!
DELIA. What does that mean?
DEVENISH. Well, it means that I've chucked poetry. A statesman's life is the life for me; behold Mr. Devenish, the new M.P.—no, look here, that was quite accidental.
DELIA (smiling at him). I believe I shall really like you when I get to know you.