PHOEBE. She is—very poorly.
VALENTINE. But it is not that unpleasant girl I have come to see, it is you.
MISS SUSAN (meekly). How do you do?
VALENTINE (ignoring her). And I am happy, Miss Phoebe, to find you alone.
MISS SUSAN (appealingly). How do you do, sir?
PHOEBE. You know quite well, sir, that Susan is here.
VALENTINE. Nay, ma'am, excuse me. I heard Miss Susan say she was gone out. Miss Susan is incapable of prevarication.
MISS SUSAN (rising—helpless). What am I to do?
PHOEBE. Don't go, Susan—'tis what he wants.
VALENTINE. I have her word that she is not present.