DR. FREEMANTLE. I’m not defending him—we’re not sure yet that he needs any defence. He has married a clever, charming girl of—as you say—a better family than he’d any right to expect. The misfortune is, that—by a curious bit of ill-luck—it happens to be his own butler.
NEWTE. If she takes my advice, she’ll return to the stage. No sense stopping where you’re not wanted.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But how can she?
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You see, they’re married!
DR. FREEMANTLE [to change the subject]. You’ll take an egg?
Newte has been boiling some. He has just served them.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [rejecting it]. Thank you.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We’re not feeling hungry.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He was so fond of her.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. She was so pretty.