LUCAS. Oh you may be perfectly open with my people as to my present
mode of life. Only--[He motions SIR GEORGE to be seated; they sit
facing each other.] Only I want you hear me declare again plainly
[looking towards AGNES] that but for the care and devotion of that good
woman over there, but for the solace of that woman's companionship, I
should have been dead months ago--I should have died raving in my
awful bedroom on the ground floor of that foul Roman hotel. Malarial
fever, of course! Doctors don't admit--do they?--that it's possible
for strong men to die of miserable marriages. And yet I was dying in
Rome, I truly believe, from my bitter, crushing disappointment, from
the consciousness of my wretched, irretrievable--[FORTUNE enters,
carrying LUCAS' hat, gloves, overcoat, and silk wrap, and upon a
salver, a bottle of medicine and a glass.]
LUCAS. [Sharply.] Qu'y a-t-il, Fortune?
FORTUNE. Sir, you have an appointment.
LUCAS. [Rising.] At the Danieli at eleven. Is it so late? [FORTUNE
places the things upon the table. LUCAS puts the wrap around his
throat; AGNES goes to him and arranges it for him solicitously.]
SIR GEORGE. [Rising.] I have to meet Lady Brodrick at the Piazzetta.
Let me take you in my gondola.
LUCAS. Thanks--delighted.
AGNES.
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