MITCHENER. Hold your tongue. (He goes to the door and calls.) Mrs. Farrell! (Returning, and again addressing the Orderly.) Civil rights don't mean the right to be uncivil. (Pleased with his own wit.) Almost a pun. Ha ha!
MRS. FARRELL. Whats the matther now? (She comes to the table.)
MITCHENER (to the Orderly). I have private business with Mrs. Farrell. Outside, you infernal blackguard.
THE ORDERLY (arguing, as usual). Well, I didnt ask to—(Mitchener seizes him by the nape; rushes him out; and slams the door).
MITCHENER. Excuse the abruptness of this communication, Mrs. Farrell; but I know only one woman in the country whose practical ability and force of character can maintain her husband in competition with the husband of Mrs. Banger. I have the honor to propose for your hand.
MRS. FARRELL. Dye mean you want to marry me?
MITCHENER. I do.
MRS. FARRELL. No thank you. Id have to work for you just the same; only I shouldnt get any wages for it.
BALSQUITH. That will be remedied when women get the vote. Ive had to promise that.
MITCHENER (winningly). Mrs. Farrell: you have been charwoman here now ever since I took up my duties. Have you really never, in your more romantic moments, cast a favorable eye on my person?