I did not force: I did but talk to her, Roger. Thee knows I sun not over eloquent. How should a worldly maid of Philadelphia give ear to me?
[Crosses to Roger: the kettle lies forgotten.
ROGER.
How, indeed! Does thee know, Elizabeth, that in so quiet a room as this I can scarce believe that a great city lies about us? 'Tis so still that I can hear the ticking of the clock.
ELIZABETH.
For myself, I am glad of a little rest after our journey up from Brookfield to the city. I find myself scarce used to city ways.
ROGER.
No more do I, Elizabeth, no more do I. I cannot think this lavish life is seemly. This table, now! Does thee note its profusion? More bread and honey and cheese and chicken pie than we can eat. Sheer waste—unless we can share it. If there was but some poor traveler in this inn whom we might bid to supper, and——
[A knock on the door leading to hall.
ELIZABETH.