CINDERELLA. Does he mean you? Are you—?
PROBATIONER. It’s nothing to make a fuss about, Cinderella. How did you find out, Danny?
DANNY. Excuse me, but your haughty manner of wringing out a dishcloth betrayed you? My war-worn eyes, of various hues, have had the honour of seeing the Lady Charlotte washing the ward floor. O memorable day! O glorified floor! O blushing dishcloth!
PROBATIONER. That was just a beginning. Some day I hope when I rise in the profession to be allowed to wash you, Danny.
DANNY (bowing grandly). The pleasure, my lady, will be mutual. (He hums a tune of the moment.)
‘And when I tell them that some day washed by her I’ll be—they’ll never believe me’—
PROBATIONER (with abandon). ‘But when I tell them ’twas a jolly good thing for me—they’ll all believe me!’
DANNY. And when I tell them—and I certainly mean to tell them—that one day she’ll walk out with me—
(In a spirit of devilry he crooks his arm; she takes it—she walks out with him for a moment.)