Everard. Oh, I beg your pardon—but Margaret always does.
Miss Tre. Am I to be forever insulted in this house? First by a wretched servant—then by a mere boy!
Everard. A boy—hang it! I shall be a full-fledged doctor soon. But I apologise—there! And Martelli's a hedgehog. Leave off sobbing (over back of settee) do!
Miss Tre. (through her tears) I will tell Sir Joseph he must choose between her—and me!
Everard. She's an awful Tartar—I wonder my uncle puts up with her. But come now, dear Miss—Evangeline—
Miss Tre. (coyly) Mr. Swenboys?
Everard. (eagerly) Did you give Margaret those verses?
Miss Tre. I did.
Everard. (excited, away R. C.) Well? Well?