Mrs. B. The strange fancies you take in regard to everything this poor man does, are to me astonishing.
Balt. (Stopping-short, and looking fixedly on her.) Are to you astonishing! I doubt it not: I was a fool to expect that a wife so many years younger than myself would have any sympathy with my feelings.
Mrs. B. Baltimore! you wrong me, unkindly.—But his daughter comes: she will over-hear us.
Balt. What brings that affected fool here? She is always coming here. It is an excrescence from the toad's back: the sight of her is an offence to me.
(Enter Charlotte, with an affected air of great delicacy.) Char. How do you do, my dear Mrs. Baltimore? I am quite charm'd to see you. (curtseys affectedly to Balt.)
Mrs. B. I thank you, my dear, you are early abroad this morning.
Char. Oh! I am almost kill'd with fatigue; but I saw your carriage at the gate, and I could not deny myself the pleasure of enquiring how you do. The heat overcomes one so much in this weather; it is enough to make one faint: it is really horrid. (speaking in a faint soft voice, and fanning herself affectedly.)
Mrs. B. It does not affect me.
Char. No! O you are not so robust I am sure.
(Enter a little country girl, trailing a great piece of muslin after her.)
