Nancy. Because I knew you wouldn’t stick to it.
Simon. I turned my back upon the slaughtered beeves, and in that higher sphere, the milky way, sought to win your love. You politely but firmly assured me I couldn’t comet in that line.
Nancy. I detest the whole race! Milk and water men! I’d like to scald them.
Simon. Cremation would suit them better. My next venture was in the slippery walks of butter and cheese.
Nancy. Anything but a butter man.
Simon. So I found out, when I attempted to slide into your affections in that role. You told me to cheese it. I understood you, and I sought a higher sphere. I embarked in the electric line, and went out into the highways and by-ways to introduce lightning-rods.
Nancy. Well, I found no fault with that.
Simon. No; but I did.
Nancy. Why didn’t you stick to it?
Simon. Well, Nancy, (takes box from breast pocket). Have a little taffee?