'This is a pretty—'
'Am I dreaming?'
'This is a pretty state of af—'
'Ever since that day I saw you in the cab I have been scouring London for you. To think that I have found you at last!'
'This is a pretty state of affairs,' said the Mayor, breathing on the barrel of his revolver and polishing it on the sleeve of his coat. 'My daughter helping the foe of her family to fly—'
'Flee, father,' corrected the girl, faintly.
'Flea or fly—this is no time for arguing about insects. Let me tell you—'
Clarence interrupted him indignantly.
'What do you mean,' he cried, 'by saying that she took after you?'
'She does.'