She. Do you? I don’t. I like some of them very much; and some of them like me, too.
He. The deuce they do!
She. Tom Thursby and Dick Carey and Harry Wylde were all disputing who should make love to me.
He. Make love to you?
She. In the play—in Husbands and Wives.
He. Do you mean to say that you are going to act on the stage with those brainless idiots?
She (interrupting). Do not call my friends names: it is in bad taste.
He. What will people say when they see my wife pawed and clawed by those fellows?
She. Let them say what they please. Do you think I care for the tittle-tattle of the riffraff of society?