"What o' the moon, madam?"
"John d'Arcy I do protest if you bow or say 'madam' again I—I'll bite you! And the moon is—is—the moon and looks vastly romantic and infinite appealing. So will I walk and gaze upon her pale loveliness and sigh and sigh and—sigh again, sir."
"But indeed you cannot walk abroad—at this hour——"
"Having the wherewithal I can sir, and I will, sir."
"But 'tis after two——"
"Then sir, in but a little while it will be three, heigho, so wags the world—your arm pray, your arm."
"But my lady pray consider—your health—your——"
"Fie sir and fiddlededee!"
"But the—the dew, 'tis very——"
"Excellent for the complexion!" and she trilled the line of a song: