sarah. Papa . . your food's intrigue.
carnaby. Scold at Society . . and what's the use?
sarah. We're over-civilized.
ann rejoins them now. The twilight is gathering.
carnaby. My mother's very old . . . your grandfather's younger and seventy-nine . . he swears I'll never come into the title. There's little else.
sarah. You're feverish . . why are you saying this?
carnaby. Ann . . George . . George via Wycombe . . Wycombe Court . . Sir George Leete baronet, Justice of the Peace, Deputy Lieutenant . . the thought's tumbled. Ann, I first saw your mother in this garden . . there.
ann. Was she like me?
sarah. My age when she married.
carnaby. She was not beautiful . . then she died.