Ned. Twelve months make a difference.
Alma. Don’t they? My amaranth has faded like the rest! (pause) And pray, why do you wear Miss Preston’s photograph?
Ned. (after making sure that Mrs. Dozey is asleep; rises) Can you keep a secret?
Alma. I’ve kept one for six years.
Ned. Miss Preston is my wife.
Alma. Your wife!
Ned. You are so quick, I knew you’d find it out, or I should have said nothing. We don’t want anyone to know—at least, I don’t—just yet.
Alma. Doesn’t Sir Humphrey?
Ned. No.
Alma. I thought he was her guardian.