(Something like a wink shows in the blush.)
Darlin': I blush fer yer bad manners, Duke. I 'm a lady and I waits patient fer the 'appy question. I lets me beauty do the pleadin'. I was a flamin' roarer in me time. Lovers was nothin'. Dozens! There was a sea-captain once—(She smiles dreamily, then seems to cut her throat with her little finger.) Positive! Jest 'cause we tiffed. And a stage-coach driver! I had ter cool his passion with a rollin' pin. He brooded hisself inter drink. 'Appy days! (She is lost for a moment in her glorious past, then blows her nose upon her apron and returns to us.) Duke—askin' yer pardon—I was noticin' lately that you was castin' yer eyes on leetle Betsy.
Duke: As washes the dishes?
Darlin': Her.
Duke: Go 'long!
Darlin': And I thought yer might be drawn to her.
Duke: Darlin', I 'm easy riled.
Darlin': Yer can have her, Duke, on one condition.
Duke: She 's a pretty leetle girl.
Darlin': Yer must set me up in a pub in Bristol—with brass beer-pulls.