22
GRIMSHAW, BAGSHAW, AND BRADSHAW.
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cautously at door, l. h., crosses behind towards door, r. c., unperceived and listens.)
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Grim.
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Towzer, you shall have your Emily.
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Grim.
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I repeat, Towzer, you shall have your Emily, (about to go towards door of closet, r. c., meets Fanny face to face) Here's another—ha, ha, ha!
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Fan.
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(taking his arm) Here I am, dear!
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Grim.
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(aside) She calls me dear!
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Fan.
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(to Towzer, with pretended surprise) A stranger! I beg your pardon, Sir; I thought my husband was alone.
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Grim.
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Husband? pooh, pooh!
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Fan.
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(aside and pinching him) Hush! back me in all I say. (aloud and taking Grimshaw's arm) I'm rather late, dear; but you won't be angry with your poor little Amelia?
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Grim.
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Amelia! (Fan. pinches him) Affairs are getting more complicated than ever; if this goes on much longer, I shan't know my head from my tail; but never mind, I rather like this—(looks at Fanny—then suddenly kisses her) say no more—I forgive you—there! (kisses her) I decidedly like this—I forgive you again. (about to kiss her again)
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Tow.
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(looking at them suspiciously) Um! rather odd you didn't tell me you were married, eh! Bradshaw?
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Fan.
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(with pretended surprise) Bradshaw! what does he mean by Bradshaw, dear?
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Grim.
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I don't know—he will insist upon calling me Bradshaw, though I've been telling him all along that my name is——
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Fan.
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(with intention) Bagshaw!
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Grim.
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No. (Fanny pinches him) Yes, of course, Bagshaw!
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Fan.
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John Bagshaw, medical student.
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Tow.
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Indeed! Then, Mr. John Bagshaw, I beg to say that I've been running after you for the last eighteen months.
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Grim.
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You don't say so! Well, as you must be rather tired by this time, perhaps you'd like to take a chair.
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Tow.
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No, thank you—I'd rather take you. (laying his hand on Grimshaw's shoulder, and producing writ.)
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Tow.
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Yes, at the suit of Stephen Stitch, tailor, for eight pounds ten. So come along, Bagshaw!
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