CRUM. At that little greengrocer’s shop at the corner of the street.
BET. My pat—(letting go the pattens) Well, they’re not worth making a piece of work about.
CRUM. (smiling) Oh! Then as I was going to say—your passion for Mouser, will, of course, be merely assumed, but you must contrive to make him fall in love with you, in downright earnest.
BET. I can’t do it, sir. I wouldn’t mind trying, if I wasn’t such a dragon of virtue—but I’m sorry to say I am.
CRUM. Then somebody else will.
BET. But if he should happen to captivate me?
CRUM. That’s your affair.
BET. But why—why am I to do all this?
CRUM. That’s my affair.
BET. (L.) But what will Mrs. Mouser say?