Horace. In my pocket all the time.
Minnie. (Goes to him and places cushions in chair) There, now. Are you nice and comfortable?
Horace. No. Not at all.
Aunt. Don’t speak to him, dear. He isn’t worth it.
Minnie. Now, Auntie dear, I must make my boy cosy, and then I think I shall go to bed.
Aunt. What? Give up the dance?
Minnie. Oh, never mind about that.
Aunt. Horace, I ask you, have you the heart to let Minnie sacrifice her pleasure for you in this way?
Minnie. But, Auntie, it doesn’t matter, really it doesn’t.
Aunt. I’m very angry with him.