Clara.  I’ll think of what you say, Joan.  There comes a moment when the heart is tired of being spurned, and it would fain get into shelter. [A slight pause.

Joan. [Looking through the window.] Look up quickly, mistress.  There’s Hooper.

Clara. [Getting up.] Then I’ll run away.  May all be well with you, dear Joan. [Clara goes out.

[Joan seats herself in a high-backed chair and opens her fan.  Miles enters, carrying a small box.

Miles.  Already astir, Miss Clara.  ’Tis early hours to be sure for one of our London beauties.

[He advances towards her, and she stretches out her hand without rising.  He takes it ceremoniously.

Joan.  You may sit down, if you like, Mister Hooper.

[Miles places a chair in front of Joan, and sits down on it.

Miles. [Untying the parcel.] I’ve been so bold as to bring you a little keepsake from my place in town, Missy.

Joan.  How kind you are, Mister Miles.

Miles.  You’ll be able to fancy yourself in Bond Street when you see it, Miss Clara.

Joan.  Now, you do excite me, Mister Hooper.

Miles. [Opening the box and taking out a handsome spray of bright artificial flowers.] There, what do you say to that, Miss?  And we can do you the same in all the leading tints.

Joan.  O, ’tis wonderful modish.  I declare I never did see anything to beat it up in town.

Miles.  Now I thought as much.  I flatter myself that we can hold our own with the best of them in Painswick High Street.

Joan.  I seem to smell the very scent of the blossoms, Mister Hooper.

[She puts out her hand shyly and takes the spray from miles, pretending to smell it.

Miles.  Well—­and what’s the next pleasure, Madam?

[Joan drops the spray and begins to fan herself violently.

Miles. [Very gently.] What’s Missy’s next pleasure?

Joan.  I’m sure I don’t know, Mr. Miles.

Miles.  Miles Hooper would like Missy to ask for all that is his.

Joan.  O, Mister Hooper, how kind you are.

Miles.  Ladies never like the sound of business, so we’ll set that aside for a moment and discuss the music of the heart in place of it.

Joan.  Ah, that’s a thing I do well understand, Mister Hooper.

Miles.  I loved you from the first, Miss.  There’s the true, high born lady for you, says I to myself.  There’s beauty and style, elegance and refinement.

Joan.  Now, did you really think all that, Mister Hooper?

Miles.  Do not keep me in suspense, Miss Clara.

Joan.  What about, sir?

Miles.  The answer to my question, Missy.