Festus. Madam, to tell you the truth, I was—thinking—of you.
Stella. Of me, or of your future salary?
Festus. Both.
Stella. What of me?
Festus. (Very awkward and confused.) That I think—I think—that you—you—are—are—
Stella. Well, what am I?
Festus. (Abruptly.) A very fine reader.
Stella. Oh! is that all?
Festus. All worth mentioning.
Stella. Sir!