PHOEBE. To-day?
VALENTINE. Not merely to-day, but now. As it happens, my carriage is standing idle at your door, and I am to take you in it to your home—some twenty miles if I remember.
PHOEBE. You are to take me?
VALENTINE. Nay, 'tis no trouble at all, and as your physician my mind is made up. Some wraps for her, Miss Susan.
MISS SUSAN. But—but——
PHOEBE (in a panic). Sir, I decline to go.
VALENTINE. Come, Miss Livvy, you are in my hands.
PHOEBE. I decline. I am most determined.
VALENTINE. You admit yourself that you are recovered.
PHOEBE. I do not feel so well now. Aunt Susan!