Austin. We wear well, Menteith.
Menteith. I hear, Mr. George, that Miss Musgrave is of the company.
Austin. Is she so? Well, well! well, well!
Menteith. I’ve not seen the young lady myself, Mr. George; but the barber tells me she’s looking poorly.
Austin. Poorly?
Menteith. Yes, Mr. George, poorly was his word.
Austin. Well, Menteith, I am truly sorry. She is not the first.
Menteith. Yes, Mr. George.
(A bell. Menteith goes out and re-enters with card.)