Von Rettenmayer.
Anxiously. My drifling liddle offering—I endreat you not to mention it to Enid.
Lily.
Laughing heartily. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Another of you!
Von Rettenmayer.
The gharming Miss Mongreiff.
Lily.
Seriously. Baron, I wish you boys wouldn’t make me presents and then ask me to keep them a secret from the other girls.
Von Rettenmayer.
And I—I wish it were not nezezzary. But, goddess, you are alzo a young lady of the world—you know what women are.