Certainly not, mamma; I don’t know Sir Colin nearly well enough to sit with him upon the floor. [Putting up her hair.]
Lady Twombley.
Darling, has Sir Colin made any remark of an interesting nature?
Imogen.
No—he stammered a little, and, while my back was turned, he ran away after his mammy.
Lady Twombley.
[To herself.] I knew it! Why didn’t we lock him in till he had provided for my poor child’s future?
Probyn.
Mrs. Gaylustre is here, my lady.