SIR W. My dear, will you go into your——
MAR. Not just yet—if I talk a little more to the gentleman he’ll get used to me, and won’t notice my grammar. And I’m not going to stand mumchance and try to talk that horrid gibberish you’ve been wanting to teach me, when I’ve got a good English tongue of my own. Leave me alone, Billy, or I’ll set Growler at you. Please don’t mind us, Sir (to BLENHEIM), man and wife, you know, when in company often have a few snaps at one another on the sly, and, as it’s nobody’s business but their own, why, of course you don’t know what we’re snapping about, do you?
BLEN. Certainly not, my lady.
MAR. Of course! I suppose you’ve been educated, haven’t you, Sir?
BLEN. Your husband and I were at college together.
MAR. I know what you mean—you were schoolfellows. Well, I dare say you’re very glad to see one another. I know I should be very glad to see my cousin Joe—we were schoolfellows, too—used to go to Old Mother Tickle’s, at the first house in the village, close to the duck pond. Oh, many and many’s the time I’ve pushed him into it—up to his knees! Oh lord! it was so bong-bong—that’s a bit of French—do you understand it, Sir?
SIR W. (who has crossed behind to BLENHEIM) Don’t you, don’t you pity me?
BLEN. I think her charming—it’s natural gaiety of heart, nothing more.
SIR W. No, no, you’re pleased to compliment.
MAR. (comes between them) Hallo! you’re whispering! where’s your manners, whispering before a lady? Is that your education, my dear?