two. Viola and I want to get married.

CRAWSHAW. And what did you want to get married on?

RICHARD (with a smile). Not very much, I'm afraid.

VIOLA. We're all right now, father, because we shall have fifty
thousand pounds.

RICHARD (sadly). Oh, Viola, Viola!

CRAWSHAW. But naturally this puts a very different complexion on
matters.

VIOLA. So of course he must take it, mustn't he, father?

CRAWSHAW. I can hardly suppose, Richard, that you expect me to
entrust my daughter to a man who is so little provident for himself
that he throws away fifty thousand pounds because of some fanciful
objection to the name which goes with it.

RICHARD (in despair). You don't understand, Robert.

CRAWSHAW. I understand this, Richard. That if the name is good
enough for me, it should be good enough for you. You don't mind
asking Viola to take _your_ name, but you consider it an insult if
you are asked to take _my_ name.

RICHARD (miserably to VIOLA). Do you want to be Mrs. Wurzel-Flummery?