Lucy. [Coming to the door.] Mistress wants me, did you say?
Robert. Yes, you’ve got to go and dress her for the church. But you can spare me a minute or two first.
Isabel. [Going quickly across the room to the staircase door.] Indeed, that is what I cannot do, master. ’Tis late already.
Robert. [Catches her hand and pulls her back.] I’ve never had a good look at your face yet, my girl—you act uncommon coy, and that you do.
Isabel. [Turning her head away and speaking angrily.] Let go of my hand, I tell you. I don’t want no nonsense of that sort.
Robert. Lucy, your voice do stir me in a very uncommon fashion, and there’s sommat about the appearance of you—
Isabel. Let go of me, master. Suppose as anyone should look through the window.
Robert. Let them look. I’d give a good bit for all the world to see us now.
Isabel. O, whatever do you mean by that, Mister Robert?
Robert. What I say. ’Tis with you as I’d be going along to church this morning. Not her what’s above.