You’re not a wallflower. But you have my permission
to hide in corners, my sweet—so long as you take me with you. In fact, I’ll insist on it. I
warn you, I’m very badly behaved at such affairs—I’ll probably debauch you in
gazebos, on balconies, beneath staircases, and behind assorted potted plants. And if you
complain, I’ll simply remind you that you should have known better than to marry a
conscienceless rake