Joan. [Letting the mirror fall on her lap and speaking very low.] How do you know I am going to Ox Lease, sir?
Miles. You see, madam, I happen to know that a stylish young miss from town is expected there to-day.
Luke. [Coming forward and speaking in a loud whisper.] Now Miles. I count as you made one of the biggest blunders of the time. Our young lady be journeying along of her servant wench. This one baint she.
Miles. If we have made a small error, madam, allow me to beg your pardon.
Joan. Don’t mention it, sir. Everyone is mistaken sometimes.
Luke. Well, I’m powerful sorry if we have given any offence, mam.
Joan. [Looking up at Luke with sudden boldness and speaking in a slow, affected voice.] There’s nothing to make so much trouble about, sir.
Miles. Can we be of any assistance to you, madam? The wood may appear rather dense at this point.
Joan. That it does. Dense and dark—and the pathway! My goodness, but my feet have never travelled over such rough ground before.
Muss. That I am sure of, madam. I have no doubt that the delicate texture of your shoes has been sadly treated by our stones and ruts.