Joan. [Insensibly pulling her skirts over her thick walking shoes.] Well, it’s vastly different to London streets, where I generally take exercise—at least when I’m not a-riding in the coach.
Miles. The country is but a sad place at the best, Miss Clara Spring.
Joan. [Looking round furtively and speaking in a whisper.] O, how did you guess my—my name?
Luke. Come, ’twasn’t a hard matter, that.
Miles. Missey can command my services.
Joan. [Rallying, and standing up.] Then gentlemen, do you walk a bit of the road with me and we could enjoy some conversation as we go along.
Luke. [Offering his arm.] You take my arm, Miss Clara—do—.
Miles. [Also offering his arm.] I shall also give myself the pleasure of supporting Miss.
Joan. [Taking an arm of each.] O thank you, kindly gentlemen. Now we shall journey very comfortably, I am sure.
[They all set out walking in the direction of the farm.