Wid. No, of course, no woman does. Ha, ha, ha! Quite proper too, my dear.
Mary. Well, now that matter’s settled, I’ll go and collect your soiled things, for it’s getting late.
Wid. Do so, Mary; you’ll find them in my room as usual. (Sits at table, L. C.) I’ll make out the list as you call them out. (Mary White enters room, R., and Widgetts prepares to write.) She’s resolved to make me her victim and I don’t know how to get rid of her. I’d give——
Mary. (Inside.) Four shirts.
Wid. (Writes.) Four shirts. She’s a perfect treasure at shirt buttons; but what is shirt buttons to a bosom that beats for another.
Mary. (Inside.) One false front.
Wid. (Writes.) One false front. She’d make a comfortable little wife if she only had——
Mary. (Inside.) A pair of white trousers.
Wid. (Writes.) A pair of white trousers. Ah! I wore those ducks at the Casino last Wednesday, and Ma’amselle Cheri Bounce observed, while I was handing her a glass of champagne—— Ecod, ’tis well I recollected it—I’ve forgotten to order champagne for my supper. I must run over to the tavern myself and tell them to send some.
[Snatches up his hat and exit, L.