ETHEL. Well, of course I do. Don’t you?
EDWIN. Oh yes! I like it very much; but then, you know I like a little change. I think a little Paradise is very nice indeed, but don’t you think that one may have more Paradise than’s good for one? I can’t help thinking it’s a great mistake to take one’s Paradise neat. Now we’ve been taking ours uncommon neat. Just think, the hours we’ve been cooped up in that confounded private room upstairs.
ETHEL. Well, Edwin dear, you said you could not stand us being the only people there, so we’ve come down into the public room.
EDWIN. And now we have come, we’re the only people here. I never knew such a disgusting place. Now, if we’d had a little change——
ETHEL. You might have met that odious Miss Carruthers, I suppose you mean—the girl that threw you over.
EDWIN. Miss Carruthers is not odious, my dear, and Miss Carruthers didn’t throw me over. Miss Carruthers was uncommonly fond of me.
ETHEL. Why didn’t she have you, then?
EDWIN. Because she didn’t get the chance. My only apprehension is lest I threw Miss Carruthers over.
ETHEL. If you did, she must have tumbled on her nose, for I am sure it’s broken.
EDWIN. No, my dear, it’s you who are responsible for anything that there may be to do with Miss Carruthers’ nose, for it was you who put it out. But nothing is the matter with it. It’s a lovely nose—especially the end of it.