ann. Mr. Tatton thinks it a romantic garden.
carnaby. [Pause.] D'ye hear the wind sighing through that tree?
ann. The air's quite still.
carnaby. I hear myself sighing . . when I first saw your mother in this garden . . . that's how it was done.
sarah. For a woman must marry.
carnaby. [Rises.] You all take to it as ducks to water . . but apple sauce is quite correct . . I must not mix metaphors.
mrs. opie comes from the house.
sarah. Your supper done, Mrs. Opie?
mrs. opie. I eat little in the evening.
sarah. I believe that saves digestion.