Man. [Angrily.] Upon my word—
Mad. L. Now I insist upon it you do. Poor little thing, I'm sure she deserves it.
Man. [Laughing.] Well, then, [Kisses her.] now, go home, there's a dear.
Chris. Oh! I will, I will, good-bye.
Mad. L. Well, haven't you got one for me?
Chris. Oh, dear, yes, Madame.
[Kisses Mad. L.
Bev. You're forgetting your money.
Chris. Oh, dear, no, sir.
[Takes it and curtsies.