Lacy:
Is it a secret? The dark lady, then, has her rival in the fair maid, and courage and wit on the one side contend with downcast eyes and shrinking modesty on the other.
Miss Fitton:
Do you jest, or am I to believe you? Who is she—a lady?
Lacy:
Her name—Violet. Her rank—youth and beauty. I know no more; put the culprit to the question.
Miss Fitton:
Where did you see them?—When?
Lacy:
At the playhouse, one afternoon.