“Not so well,” answers she.

“You’ve seen her?”

“Not I.”

“Are like to?”

“No, Sir.”

“You can convey messages to her by some fond way she’s planned to get her news of me, eh?”

“I can, Sir Robin.”

“Sir, whoever you are, for pity’s sake, tell me where is she?”

“Not far, Sir.”

“Gad, Sir, to touch her hand, her cheek! You’re in her sure confidence? She does favor me? She will not give me hopes, Sir, to turn around and break my heart by marryin’ of another?”