[Here Isabel sinks down on a chair by the window, leaning her arms on the table and bowing her head, in tears.
John. [Going to the door.] Jeremy—Jeremy—come you in here a minute.
[Instead of Jeremy, Lubin comes in.
John. ’Twas Jeremy I did call—not you.
Lubin. He’s gone off the place for a few minutes.
John. [Vexedly.] Ah, ’tis early for the Red Bull.
Lubin. Can I—can I do anything for you, master?
John. Not unless you can account for the sort of serving wench off the roadside what Jerry has put upon us.
Lubin. What is there to account for in her, master?
Rose. [Passionately.] O I don’t particular mind about what’s happened. Let her kiss with Robert if she has the mind. ’Tis always the man who commences.