"Of course not, dear Joseph. It was far too cleverly arranged for that. She certainly is clever--an accomplished actress. I only hope it may answer, and that you may not find her out to be too clever by half. A good many people have seen as well as me. It was very well done--quite dramatic, in fact; or rather, pantomimic--for they were far too judicious to raise their voices and be overheard."
"Enough, Susan. I detest insinuations. Who are they whose private affairs you have been watching and prying into? Do you know that you have been accusing yourself of eavesdropping, mitigated only by your inability to hear what was said? It is scarcely the pursuit I should have expected a ladylike person to take up."
"You are rude, Joseph; but I forgive you. One must not expect people to accept disenchantment with an equable mind."
"You speak riddles. I am in no mood for guessing them."
"Just what I say. You are upset, Joseph, and I am truly sorry."
"I am not upset. I am perfectly well and happy, Susan. It is you who are absurd. You have your girls' hands to dispose of. It is occupation enough for any woman. See you do it wisely; and leave me to bestow my own in peace. I decline your interference."
"You are blind, Joseph. There are a score of people in this wood. Every one of them must have seen. It is only you, the one who ought to know, who have not, and do not know. I insist on telling you. You may not like it, but it is my duty."
"Always a duty--when a woman wants to be provoking."
"I forgive the gibe. The young person you have chosen to devote yourself to, has a lover."
"Certainly. The lady you stigmatise as a person has me; and I mean to marry her."