_)
MR. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) No good fighting...no good fighting...
DIVINE: (_Reaching out to stroke her arm with the powerful movement
that made him stroke of the crew at Oxford_) You'd better marry me.
ULSA: (_Scornfully_) Why, they wouldn't let me in through the
servants' entrance of your house.
DIVINE: (_Angrily_) They wouldn't! Never fear--you shall come in
through the mistress' entrance.
ULSA: Sir!
DIVINE: (_In confusion_) I beg your pardon. You know what I mean?
MR. ICKY: (_Aching with whimsey_) You want to marry my little
Ulsa?...
DIVINE: I do.
MR. ICKY: Your record is clean.
DIVINE: Excellent. I have the best constitution in the world---
ULSA: And the worst by-laws.
DIVINE: At Eton I was a member at Pop; at Rugby I belonged to
Near-beer. As a younger son I was destined for the police force---
MR. ICKY: Skip that.... Have you money?...
DIVINE: Wads of it. I should expect Ulsa to go down town in sections
every morning--in two Rolls Royces. I have also a kiddy-car and a
converted tank. I have seats at the opera---
ULSA: (_Sullenly_) I can't sleep except in a box. And I've heard
that you were cashiered from your club.
MR. ICKY: A cashier? ...
DIVINE: (_Hanging his head_) I was cashiered.
ULSA: What for?
DIVINE: (_Almost inaudibly_) I hid the polo bails one day for a
joke.
MR. ICKY: Is your mind in good shape?
DIVINE: (_Gloomily_) Fair.
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