MRS. SCHUYLER: (Finally remembering him.) Oh, you dear old Benchie!
(They embrace.) And I used to come in and sit all over you.
PHIL: That's how I came to fall in love with you.
MRS. SCHUYLER: A man always thinks more of a woman when she sits on him.
PHIL: Do she?
MRS. SCHUYLER: She do.
PHIL: Come and sit on me now.
MRS. SCHUYLER: (Coyly.) Oh, you fascinating devil.
PHIL: Ah, go on—ah, sit on me. (Business of sitting—nearly flopping—finally getting on his knee.)
MRS. SCHUYLER: You're not the bench you used to be!
PHIL: You're not the sitter you used to be.