"To consent to your marrying?—Ah!—I see!—If the matter is laid before me in due and proper form—it is possible that you have a certain individual in your mind's eye whom you are willing to make the happiest of men—and I was satisfied that he was a fit, and a proper, person, and every care was taken to safeguard your interests—then, my dear Miss Cullen, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to give my consent to your being happily launched on what, I fear, is, too often, the troubled sea of marriage."
"That's not the sort of thing I want at all."
"No? Then what is the sort of thing you want, may I inquire?"
The young lady tapped her foot against the floor. For the first time, she seemed to be not entirely at her ease.
"The fact is, I'm married already."
"Married—already?—With the consent of the court?"
"Bother the court!"
"Young lady!—Are you aware who it is to whom you are speaking?"
"I am perfectly aware. I am speaking to the person who kissed me against my will."
"Miss Cullen!—I'm the Chancellor!"