Miss Sna. And of course he can’t find courage to utter a word.
Boss. How distressing! I am passing your door, Miss Snare, will you take my arm?
Miss Sna. You are very kind!
Boss. (L.) Beautiful color this cloth, is it not? (Shewing the sleeve of his coat.)
Miss Sna. Beautiful!
Boss. And the pattern of my waistcoat.
Miss Sna. Exquisite!
Boss. May I ask you if you admire me collectively.
Miss Sna. Oh, that I do, from the extreme point of your boot, to the loftiest summit of your hair.
Boss. ’Pon my life she’s a desirable woman!