"Oh, but mister, look here. What have you got it?"
"Got what?"
"The age."
"Thirty-five."
"Does it make any difference if it ain't right?"
"It might make a serious difference."
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear, I've gone and perjured myself. But it's all your fault, you horrid man, you flustered me so. Did I say thirty-five? I didn't mean it. It's forty-five, so there."
And away she goes in a state of great indignation and perplexity.
—Burlington Hawkeye.