Tom. Come, Mildred dear, say “Yes.”
Mil. But I can’t say “Yes.”
Tom. You might help a fellow a bit. I never proposed to anybody before, and I daresay I’ve done it very badly——
Mil. No, Tom, you’ve done it very well.
Tom. (rises and sits beside her, arm round her waist) Say “Yes,” then. Of course, I’m not good enough for a girl like you. But I may be some day. My brother Ned’s a confirmed bachelor, and it’s just on the cards I may be the next Earl of Normantower.
Mil. Yes, Tom, that’s just it. I’m not fit to be a Countess.
Tom. Not fit to be a Countess? Why, some of ’em are awful.
Mil. My brother wouldn’t hear of it, I’m sure.
Tom. Well, then, you shan’t be a Countess. A confirmed bachelor’s always the first to get married; and if Ned has a family, I shan’t come in for the title. You wouldn’t mind being Mrs. Verinder, would you?
Mil. Oh, Tom! I know ought to say I should, but I shouldn’t.