Eglantine.. No. A woman singing ... in my bedroom. Dusting yesterday's cares away to make room for the cares of to-morrow. Put that down. I may want to say it again. What is she singing? You know everything.
Harlequin.. A country song, my lord.
Eglantine.. Is the country like that? Handkerchief.
[The word has hardly left his lips before the handkerchief, neatly unfolded, is in his hand. What a valet!
She has stopped. Put the door ajar so that I see her.
[Harlequin looks at the door. It opens and stands obediently ajar.
A picture of innocence. Putting her hair tidy before my mirror. She is like a ... [He has almost forgotten those little things that grow so prettily.] ... when I was a boy they grew in the garden.
Harlequin.. Flower, my lord?
Eglantine.. I must give her a guinea. Give me a guinea. Send her to me.
Harlequin.. Certainly, my lord.