“Do you expect me to reel out platitudes in Parliament while you’re playing the deuce with me? Not much! And if I hold my tongue this session, I may as well take the Chiltern Hundreds.”
“Nonsense,” said Dolly, a trifle cross. “You could do it if you tried. Of course, if you lose your position you won’t be so eligible.”
“Hard lines; you put me on the rack and punish me for being disabled. But I’ll have you yet, in spite of yourself.”
“You may,” retorted Dolly, “or, on the other hand, you mayn’t.”
“I shall.”
“Peut-être. Please to move, Mr. Farquhar, I want to get down.”
“Wait a moment. A kiss first, if you please.”
“I will not! Take your arm away.”
“No,” said Farquhar, evenly. “I’m going to have one.”
“I’ll never give it you.”