_M.B._ (_in full hearing of fashionable throng_). Darling, I have waited
patiently for you. Say that you will marry me now.

_Mary._ Marmaduke, you are rich, you are beautiful and you are kind to me
in your rather wicked way. But, alas! I cannot forget the noble figure of
George--my George. [_She sobs._

_Enter_ George Jeffreys, _in the uniform of a private._

_G.J._ Mary!

_M.B._ (_intervening jauntily_). Well, my man?

_G.J._ (_his vocabulary strengthened by Army life_). You dash blank
blighter! You ruddy plague-spot!

_Mary_ (_gazing at him with horror_). Oh, George,
those--clothes--don't--fit! [_Sobs heartbrokenly._

_M.B._ (_striking while the iron is hot_). Mary, you shall choose between
us, here and now.

_G.J._ (_yearningly_). Mary, with you to cheer me on I will win the V.C. I
swear it. My beloved, come with me; there will be a separation allowance.

_Mary_ (_shuddering_). Not in those trousers. I--can't. [_She swoons
in_ Marmaduke's _arms._ George _raises his fist to strike_ Marmaduke.
_Enter_ Sergeant Tompkins.

_Sergt. T._ 'Ere, none o' that. Private Jeffreys, 'SHUN! Right--TURN!