Whew! One lives and learns. (Aloud.) I'm sorry to hear that. She hasn't
mentioned it to me.
Miss T. (Flurried.) Of course not! Poor dear Mamma never would. And you mustn't
say that I told you either. Promise me that you won't. Oh, Captain Gamsby,
promise me you won't!
Capt. G. I am dumb, or--I shall be as soon as you've given me that dance, and
another--if you can trouble yourself to think about me for a minute.
Miss T. But you won't like it one little bit. You'll be awfully sorry
afterward.
Capt. G. I shall like it above all things, and I shall only be sorry that I
didn't get more. (Aside.) Now what in the world am I saying?
Miss T. Very well. You will have only yourself to thank if your toes are
trodden on. Shall we say Seven?
Capt. G. And Eleven. (Aside.) She can't be more than eight stone, but, even
then, it's an absurdly small foot. (Looks at his own riding boots.)
Miss T. They're beautifully shiny. I can almost see my face in them.
Capt. G. I was thinking whether I should have to go on crutches for the rest of
my life if you trod on my toes.
Miss T. Very likely. Why not change Eleven for a square?
Capt. G. No, please! I want them both waltzes. Won't you write them down?
Miss T.
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