G. (_In answer to the thunderstorm in her eyes_.) Corns--my
worst.
MRS. H. Upon my word, you are the very rudest man in the world! I'll
_never_ do it again.
CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) No, I don't think you will; but I wonder what you
will do before it's all over. (_To Khitmatgar_.) _Thorah ur Simpkin
do_.
MRS. H. Well! Haven't you the grace to apologise, bad man?
CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) I mustn't let it drift back _now_. Trust a woman
for being as blind as a bat when she won't see.
MRS. H. I'm waiting: or would you like me to dictate a form of apology?
CAPT. G. (_Desperately_.) By all means dictate.
MRS. H. (_Lightly_.) Very well. Rehearse your several Christian names
after me and go on: 'Profess my sincere repentance.'
CAPT. G. 'Sincere repentance.'
MRS. H. 'For having behaved--'
CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) At last! I wish to Goodness she'd look away. 'For
having behaved'--as I have behaved, and declare that I am thoroughly
and heartily sick of the whole business, and take this opportunity of
making clear my intention of ending it, now, henceforward, and for
ever. (_Aside_.) If any one had told me I should be such a blackguard--!
MRS.
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