MIZ. Yes, the wrong side of our mouths. If ever I do go out with you again!
Enter CUTAWAY, with ladder, L. U. E. BOLT steps back.
CUT. Fortune favours the bold. This is an unexpected prize—found it in the knife room—and the dear creature at yonder window, she shall descend: then we’ll over the wall.—By-the-by, I wonder what has become of that inefficient representation of myself.—Harriet!
MIZ. Hilloa! you there!
CUT. There she is, beautiful as ever.
BOLT. (Aside.) True,—all cats are alike in the dark.
CUT. Come to the arms of your ever-faithful Cutaway.
MIZ. You make me blush.
CUT. I have a ladder, dearest; will you descend it?
MIZ. I believe you, I will;—Come, look alive!—put it up!