Ethel.
I don’t know why you should say this.
Serlo.
Better have it out, you know; rotten, keepin’ things on your chest. Don’t blame the young lady. Don’t know that I should much fancy myself if I was a blushing damsel. Not everybody’s money. Got a bit damaged in transit, eh, what? Been mixed up in one or two scandals. Not the right thing for an old-established marquess. Bit inclined to drink. No harm in him, you know, but not the sort of man you’d like to spend the rest of your life with. Young woman got a mind of her own. Lets the noble lord see she wouldn’t take him if he was given away with a pound of tea. All right, says noble lord, bet’s off. Not much, says mother of young woman. Half a million goin’ beggin’. Give her time to get used to you. Fascinating cove really. More she knows you more she’ll like you. Come down and stay in the country.
Ethel.
[With a laugh.] How can you talk such nonsense!
Serlo.
All right, says noble lord, I’m on. Jolly nice girl, and all that sort of thing. Noble lord rather smit. Thinks if she’ll have him he’ll turn over a new leaf—give up everythin’ rotten and try and make her a good husband. Rather taken with the idea of double harness. He may look a fool, but noble lord knows a good thing when he sees it, and the young lady’s about the best thing he’s ever set eyes on.
Ethel.
Are you talking seriously by any chance?