Mrs. Dot.
But what on earth’s to be done?
Blenkinsop.
You must marry me.
Mrs. Dot.
Nothing will induce me to do anything of the sort.
Blenkinsop.
[Going up to her with outstretched arms.] You can’t realise the wealth of tenderness and affection which I’ll lavish upon you.
Mrs. Dot.
Go away! Don’t come near me.