MRS. COADE. He always liked my smile.

PURDUE. So do we all.

COADE (to himself). Emma!

MRS. COADE. He hasn't forgotten my name!

COADE. It is sad that we didn't meet long ago. I think I have been
waiting for you. I suppose we have met too late? You couldn't
overlook my being an old fellow, could you, eh?

JOANNA. How lovely; he is going to propose to her again. Coady, you
happy thing, he is wanting the same soft face after thirty years!

MRS. COADE (undoubtedly hopeful). We mustn't be too sure, but I think
that is it. (Primly.) What is it exactly that you want, Mr. Coade?

COADE (under a lucky star). I want to have the right to hold the
parasol over you. Won't you be my wife, my dear, and so give my long
dream of you a happy ending?

MRS. COADE (preening). Kisses are not called for at our age, Coady,
but here is a muffler for your old neck.

COADE. My muffler; I have missed it. (It is however to his forehead
that his hand goes. Immediately thereafter he misses his sylvan
attire.) Why . . . why . . . what . . . who . . . how is this?