Anthony. Think? Don’t think? What’s this?
Barbara. O sir! I don’t know, and yet I don’t like it. Here’s my beautiful necklace all broke to bits: she took it off my very neck, and gave me her birthday pearls instead; and I found it afterwards on the table, all smashed to pieces; and all she wanted it for was to take and break it. Why that? It frightens me, Mr. Anthony, it frightens me.
Anthony (with necklace). This? What has this trumpery to do with us?
Barbara. He gave it me: that’s why she broke it.
Anthony. He? who?
Barbara. Mr. Austin did; and I do believe I should not have taken it, Mr. Anthony, but I thought no harm, upon my word of honour. He was always here: that was six months ago; and indeed, indeed, I thought they were to marry. How would I think else with a born lady like Miss Dorothy?
Anthony. Why, Barbara, God help us all, what’s this? You don’t mean to say that there was—
Barbara. Here it is, as true as true: they were going for a jaunt; and Miss Foster had her gout; and I was to go with them; and he told me to make-believe I was ill; and I did; and I stayed at home; and he gave me that necklace; and they went away together; and, oh dear! I wish I’d never been born.
Anthony. Together? he and Dolly? Good Lord! my sister! And since then?
Barbara. We haven’t seen him from that day to this, the wicked villain; and, Mr. Anthony, he hasn’t so much as written the poor dear a word.