Bev. No, no; a little rest will ease me. And for your Lewson's kindness to her, it has my thanks: I have no more to give him.
Char. Yes; a sister and her fortune. I trifle with him; and he complains. My looks, he says, are cold upon him. He thinks too—
Bev. That I have lost your fortune—He dares not think so.
Char. Nor does he—You are too quick at guessing. He cares not if you had. That care is mine. I lent it you to husband; and now I claim it.
Bev. You have suspicions then?
Char. Cure them, and give it me.
Bev. To stop a sister's chiding.
Char. To vindicate her brother.
Bev. How if he needs it not?
Char. I would fain hope so.