Tiff. I hope, sir, you are not offended? I would not be impertinent, though I am not so tasteless as to be shy.
Cliff. Offended, my dear? I am quite charmed, I assure you. And so without further shyness on either part, let us be free upon the subject I had to talk over with you. You surely are not looking to lasting connexions?
Tiff. [With airs.] Sir, I don't understand you—I am not what you suppose, I assure you—Connexions indeed—I should never have thought of that—my character—my behaviour; connexions, I don't know what the word signifies.
Sir C. [Without.] Clifford—are you ready?
Cliff. I am at your orders, sir.
Tiff. [Aside.] Deuce take this interruption!
Sir Clement. [Without.] I shall not wait for Mr. Alscrip any longer.
Tiff. [Aside.] Lud, lud, he, gives me no time to come round again. [Runs up to him confusedly.] It's very true, sir, I would not do such a thing for the world, but you are a man of honour, and I am sure would not give bad advice to a poor girl who is but a novice—and so, sir, [Hears Sir Clement entering.] put your proposal in writing, and you may depend on having an answer.
[Runs out.