MARLOW. What a bawling in every part of the house! I have scarce a moment’s repose. If I go to the best room, there I find my host and his story: if I fly to the gallery, there we have my hostess with her curtsey down to the ground. I have at last got a moment to myself, and now for recollection. [Walks and muses.]
MISS HARDCASTLE. Did you call, sir? Did your honour call?
MARLOW. (Musing.) As for Miss Hardcastle, she’s too grave and sentimental for me.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Did your honour call? (She still places herself before him, he turning away.)
MARLOW. No, child. (Musing.) Besides, from the glimpse I had of her, I think she squints.
MISS HARDCASTLE. I’m sure, sir, I heard the bell ring.
MARLOW. No, no. (Musing.) I have pleased my father, however, by coming down, and I’ll to-morrow please myself by returning. [Taking out his tablets, and perusing.]
MISS HARDCASTLE. Perhaps the other gentleman called, sir?
MARLOW. I tell you, no.
MISS HARDCASTLE. I should be glad to know, sir. We have such a parcel of servants!