ROYS. Yes, Banbury—where the cakes come from.
BART. I was aware that Mrs. Templeton expected you on a matter of business—a certain sum of money, I believe?
ROYS. Yes, coming to the family from some Hampshire property.
BART. I imagined Mr. Royston was a much older person.
ROYS. I see! You mean Jonathan.
BART. Jonathan?
Rots. Yes, my brother—the head of the firm—he’s twenty years my senior! But as he could not spare the time to come, he sent me.
BART. (aside). It’s worth the trial—decidedly worth it! (looking aside at ROYSTON). Young, gentlemanly, sufficiently good-looking, good family! Here goes! (Aloud.) Excuse my candor, but I think I guess your motive in putting the professional question you did just now. You are the writer of the promise of marriage, and you are desirous of contracting another alliance—eh?
ROYS. I don’t care about it, but Jonathan does! (Aside, and sighing again.) Poor Sophia!