Gertrude.
[Pulling him, as she runs towards him.] Oh, George!!! [Then] Confound you!
George.
[Reproachfully.] Gertrude!!!!!!
Gertrude.
[Crushed.] Why, what did I say?
George.
[Lovingly.] Now listen to me, little one. Such language may be excusable in your papa, but never in my bride.
Gertrude.
[Pouting.] Everything I say seems to displease you. You never find fault with Marie! You can go and marry her!!!