John. I don’t know what’s in the refrigerator. I don’t think there’s anything except beer.
Julie. That’s not to be sniffed at. Personally I’m so simple in my tastes that I prefer it to wine.
John.[Takes a bottle out of the refrigerator and draws the cork; he looks in the cupboard for a glass and plate, on which he serves the beer.] May I offer you some?
Julie. Thanks. Won’t you have some as well?
John. I’m not what you might call keen on beer, but if you order me, Miss
Julie. Order? It seems to me that as a courteous cavalier you might keep your partner company.
John. A very sound observation. [He opens another bottle and takes a glass.]
Julie. Drink my health! [JOHN hesitates.] I believe the old duffer is bashful.
John.[On his knees, mock heroically, lifts up his glass.] The health of my mistress!
Julie. Bravo! Now, as a finishing touch, you must kiss my shoe. [JOHN hesitates, then catches sharply hold of her foot and kisses it lightly.] First rate! You should have gone on the stage.