SHE. My husband! (Drawing away) What do you mean? (Thoroughly awake now) You didn't think—? (She jumps up and laughs convulsively.) You thought poor old Tubby was my husband?
HE. (staring up at her bewildered) Why, isn't he your husband?
SHE. (scornfully) No!! He's my uncle!
HE. Your unc—
SHE. Yes, of course! (Indignantly) Do you suppose I would be married to a man that's fat and bald and forty years old?
HE. (distressed) I—I beg your pardon. I did think so.
SHE. Just because you saw me with him? How ridiculous!
HE. It was a silly mistake. But—the things you said! You spoke so— realistically—about marriage.
SHE. It was your marriage I was speaking about. (With hasty compunction) Oh, I beg your—
HE. My marriage! (He rises.) Good heavens! And to whom, pray, did you think I was married? (A light dawning) To Maria? Why, Maria is my aunt!