Margaret. Yes, yes—let us! But stay—I have a word to say to you—
Sir J. More words?
Margaret. Not of myself this time—nor of you—but of—Everard!
Sir J. (with a gleam of hope) Everard!
Margaret. (reproachfully) Oh, Joseph, my own Joseph, what a suspicion! Could you imagine! Oh!
Sir J. (groaning again) He is more of your age—I thought—I told you I should not blame you—
Margaret. Never dare to hint at such a thing again! I regard him—it is my duty to regard him—with the serene, but affectionate eyes, of an—aunt, (sit R. C.)
Sir J. (C.) Aunt!
Margaret. And—I confess—it grieves me—to see him—so much taken up with—Lady Claude.
Sir J. (eagerly) Ah, you have noticed—