"For goodness sake, don't jest with her! She has about as much sense of humour as a prehistoric cave-dweller.
She thinks you have made her a serious offer of marriage." He made her another bow.
"You hear what Sir Granite says?
He forbids our union.

If I married you without his consent, he would flay me alive, dip me in boiling oil and read me aloud his History of Renaissance Morals.

So I'm afraid it is no good." "Then I mustn't marry him either ?" asked Carlotta, looking at me.
"No!" I cried, "you are not going to marry anybody.

You seem to have hymenomania.

People don't marry in this casual way in England.