ALINE. To a fat and wealthy widow—
CROCKSTEAD. The old story.
ALINE. Who was touring through India, and had been made love to by every unmarried officer in the regiment. She chose him.
CROCKSTEAD. India? [He moves towards her.]
ALINE. Yes.
CROCKSTEAD. I have an idea that I shall like your friend. [He takes her hand in his.]
ALINE. I shall be careful to tell her all that you said to me—at the beginning—
CROCKSTEAD. It is quite possible that my remarks may not apply after all.
ALINE. But I believe myself from what I know of you both that—if she marries you—it will not be—altogether—for your money.
CROCKSTEAD. Listen—they're playing "God Save the King." Will you be my wife, Aline?