COX. No, sir—my wife wouldn’t let me.
BOX. Your wife!
COX. That is—my intended wife.
BOX. Well, that’s the same thing! I congratulate you (shaking hands).
COX (with a deep sigh). Thank ye. (Seeing BOX about to get up.) You needn’t disturb yourself, sir. She won’t come here.
BOX. Oh! I understand. You’ve got a snug little establishment of your own here—on the sly—cunning dog (nudging COX).
COX (drawing himself up). No such thing, sir; I repeat, sir, no such thing, sir; but my wife—I mean, my intended wife—happens to be the proprietor of a considerable number of bathing-machines—
BOX (suddenly). Ha! Where? (grasping COX’S arm).
COX. At a favorite watering-place. How curious you are!
BOX. Not at all. Well?