ARTH. (indignantly). Niceish sort of girl! She’s an angel!
COL. Rubbish! Besides, as I said before, you’re too young to marry yet; wait another ten or fifteen years, and then begin to look about you. You haven’t popped to her, have you?
ARTH. Popped?
COL. Proposed!
ARTH. No!
COL. Then how do you know she’d have you?
ARTH. Of course I don’t know; but I think she might.
COL. There’s a conceited young puppy for you!
ARTH. (coaxingly). Especially if you’ll encourage my attentions—like my dear, kind old uncle!
COL. Which your “dear, kind old uncle” doesn’t intend to do.