THE SQUIRE. H'm! Dash it! Yes! Can't forget the way she ran into that stinkin' pond.
MAUD. Had she a wedding-ring on?
[They look at each other, but no one knows.]
LADY ELLA. Well, I'm not going to be ungrateful.
THE SQUIRE. It'd be dashed awkward—mustn't take a false step, Ella.
THE RECTOR. And I've got his braces! [He puts his hand to his waist.]
MAUD. [Warningly] Bertie!
THE SQUIRE. That's all right, Rector—we're goin' to be perfectly polite, and—and—thank her, and all that.
LADY ELLA. We can see she's a good sort. What does it matter?
MAUD. My dear Ella! "What does it matter!" We've got to know.