Lawton: ‘Ah, don’t try to jest it away, my poor friend. This is one of those obscure diseases of the heart—induration of the pericardium—which, if not taken in time, result in deceitfulness above all things, and desperate wickedness.’
Willis: ‘Look here, Dr. Lawton, what are you up to?’
Lawton: ‘Look here, Mr. Campbell, what is your little game?’
Willis: ‘I don’t know what you’re up to.’ He shrugs his shoulders and walks up the room.
Lawton, shrugging his shoulders and walking up the room abreast of Campbell: ‘I don’t know what your little game is.’ They return together, and stop, confronting each other.
Willis: ‘But if you think I’m going to give myself away—’
Lawton: ‘If you suppose I’m going to take you at your own figure—’ They walk up the room together, and return as before.
Willis: ‘Mrs. Bemis, what is this unnatural parent of yours after?’
Mrs. Bemis, tittering: ‘Oh, I’m sure I can’t tell.’
Willis: ‘Aunt Mary, you used to be a friend of mine. Can’t you give me some sort of clue?’