Dor. Cutting Watch-papers, and making Conundrums, I suppose.
Sav. What do you mean?
Dor. Faith, I hardly know. She's not here, however, Mrs. Racket tells me.—I ask'd no further.
Sav. Your indifference seems increas'd.
Dor. Quite the reverse; 'tis advanced thirty-two degrees towards hatred.
Sav. You are jesting?
Dor. Then it must be with a very ill grace, my dear Saville; for I never felt so seriously: Do you know the creature's almost an Ideot?
Sav. What!
Dor. An Ideot. What the devil shall I do with her? Egad! I think I'll feign myself mad—and then Hardy will propose to cancel the engagements.
Sav. An excellent expedient. I must leave you; you are mysterious, and I can't stay to unravel ye.—I came here to watch over Innocence and Beauty.