_Harry._ No, dear--at least a little sometimes.
_Dolly._ When I think what patience you've had with me, and never reproached me----
_Harry._ Well, not often. We've had our little tiffs--That day at Goodwood--eh?
_Dolly._ Don't speak of it! I was to blame----
_Harry._ No, dear, I can't let you accuse yourself. I was quite in the wrong.
_Dolly._ No, dear, it was my fault entirely!
_Harry._ Well, we won't quarrel about that. Now these bills----
_Harry._ And always shall be. [_Kissing her._
_Dolly._ [_Going up to writing-desk._] What a lucky woman I am!
_Harry._ [_Seated at table._] Bring them all.
_Dolly._ [_Has opened desk and taken up some bills--she looks round dubiously at_ HARRY.] What a splendid thing it must be to be a husband and have it in your power to make your wife _adore_ you, by simply paying a few bills.
_Harry._ Yes--bring them all. [_She comes down with a bundle of about fifteen, hands them to him._] Is this all?
_Dolly._ So you shall, but we'll go through these first, because [_lamely_] if you want to ask any questions we can settle them on the spot, can't we?
_Harry._ [_Reading from the bill._] Maison Récamier, Court and artistic millinery. By Jove! [_Looks up._
_Harry._ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine--nine hats!
_Harry._ Yedda straw hat, four guineas, ostrich feather ruffle, twelve pounds ten----
_Dolly._ That was the one--you remember--when I came into the room you said, "Stay there! Just as you are! I must kiss you!"
_Harry._ Yes, but twelve pounds ten--Moss green chip hat, four, fourteen, six. Heliotrope velvet toque----
_Dolly._ That's the dear little toque you admire so much!
_Harry._ Do I? Six guineas! Dear little toque! Hat in white Tegal with plumes of Nattier Bleu--fifteen guineas--Fifteen guineas?!
_Dolly._ Oh, the woman's a fearful swindler! But what are you to do with such people?
_Harry._ [_With bill._] Total, sixty-four, seven, six. And I get my one silk topper a year, at a guinea, and three and six for doing it up. Total for me, one, four, six. Total for you----
_Dolly._ My dear Harry, don't make absurd comparisons!
_Harry._ [_Takes another bill._] John Spearman, artistic gown maker, ball gowns, reception gowns, race gowns--Good heavens!