No lady would marry a gentleman who had been a convict, would she?
Beatie.
No; certainly not!
Cis.
I thought not! Well, Beatie, I’ve been run after by a policeman.
Beatie.
[Leaving him.] Oh!
Cis.
Not caught, you know, only run after; and, walking home from Hendon this morning, I came to the conclusion that I ought to settle down in life. Beatie—could I write out a paper promising to marry you when I’m one-and-twenty?