(Exit, L.)
BOLT. The devil! oh! he, he! the tender creature! Confusion! Petrifaction!
MIZ. (Whispering.) I say, Charley—how d’ye like that? Bother your long-winded stories!—Oh!
Enter MISS BROWN, L. H.
BOLT. (Aside.) Not remarkably handsome, either.
MRS. S. How d’ye do, Miss Brown?—I beg pardon, Mrs. Steele, I mean.
MISS B. Mrs. Steele! what d’ye mean?
MIZ. (Aside.) Ah, she wont swallow it—she’s not soft steel.
BOLT. Well, anything to get off. Good by, ladies,—good by.
MRS. S. What an ungallant husband!