Maj.: Well, you had gone and married another man—a widower, too, at that.
Em.: Well, there’s no particular harm in marrying a widower, I suppose. I’m ready to do it again, if I meet a really nice one.
Maj.: Look here, Emily, it’s not fair to go at that rate. You’re a lap ahead of me the whole time. It’s my place to propose to you; all you’ve got to do is to say “Yes.”
Em.: Well, I’ve practically said it already, so we needn’t dawdle over that part.
Maj.: Oh, well—
(They look at each other, then suddenly embrace with considerable energy.)
Maj.: We dead-heated it that time. (Suddenly jumping to his feet) Oh, d--- I’d forgotten!
Em.: Forgotten what?
Maj.: The children. I ought to have told you. Do you mind children?
Em.: Not in moderate quantities. How many have you got?