Miss Woodward, I humbly beg your pardon.
Miss Woodward.
Although the home may be grubby, I daresay we are as happy as you. We believe in things, anyway—you don’t.
Gunning.
Don’t judge me by a hasty remark. Besides, I had an alternative to suggest.
Miss Woodward.
You? You don’t want a secretary, do you?
Gunning.
I—I wanted to tell you in a different way, but you won’t let me. I want you as my wife.