CAPT. M. Kiss Her, Gaddy.
CAPT. G. (Rubbing the ink into his glove.) Eh! Wha—at?
CAPT. M. (Taking one pace to Bride.) If you don't, I shall.
CAPT. G. (Interposing an arm.) Not this journey!
General kissing, in which CAPT. G. is pursued by
unknown female.
CAPT. G. (Faintly to M.) This is Hades! Can I wipe my face now?
CAPT. M. My responsibility has ended. Better ask Missis Gadsby.
CAPT. G. winces as though shot and procession is
Mendelssohned out of Church to house, where usual
tortures take place over the wedding-cake.
CAPT. M. (At table.) Up with you, Gaddy. They expect a speech.
CAPT. G. (After three minutes' agony.) Ha-hmmm. (Thunders of applause.)