Miss Sna. Now, Mr. Boss, will you step and look at my little parterre?
Boss. Really, I’m no florist.
Miss Sna. But you always make some valuable observation, whatever you may be regarding—you can’t help it—your natural good taste is so prevailing.
Boss. Do you think so, really?
Miss Sna. Sincerely I do.
Boss. Upon my life you are a very agreeable creature.
Miss Sna. It requires little effort to be agreeable where you are.
Boss. ’Pon my honour, you’ll make me actually in love—
Miss Sna. Ah!
Boss. With myself.