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Well, perhaps she's not strictly speaking, my fiancee, but I've always harboured the most genuine feelings toward her and the last thing I would have expected is to find her half-dressed with your bloody hands all over her - Cecily, my dear girl, are you all right? I promise you that I'll have it out with Reilly here man to man just as soon as we get you back safely to the hotel and into -
Well, of course I intend to propose to you - didn't you hear what I called you just now? Cecily! This is hardly the time or place for me to get down on my knee, with Reilly over there sniggering into his broomhandle Mauser - typical of him to carry a bloody flashy gun made by Huns - and half the general populace of St. Petersburg watching! D'you want me to schedule this momentous occasion in our lives for before or after I have it out with Sidney for daring to lay a finger on you? Really, Cecily, this unexpected streak of romanticism you suddenly display is almost as unsettling as your constant and pedantic insistence on timetables and the linear progression of history. In fact, I believe you've somehow made a proposal of marriage into a manifesto on the prelude to co-habitation.
Did someone hear that?
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