I would come. I've given poor Amos the slip; he believes I am
buying beads for the Ketherick school-children.
AGNES. [Shaking her head.] Ah, Mrs. Thorpe!--
GERTRUDE. Of course, it's perfectly brutal to be underhanded. But we're
leaving for home tomorrow; I couldn't resist it.
AGNES. [Coldly.] Perhaps I'm very ungracious--
GERTRUDE. [Taking AGNES' hand.] The fact is, Mrs. Cleeve--oh, what do
you wish me to call you?
AGNES. [Withdrawing her hand.] Well--you're off tomorrow. Agnes will
do.
GETRUDE. Thank you. The fact is, it's been a bad week with me--
restless, fanciful. And I haven't been able to get you out of my head.
AGNES. I'm sorry.
GERTRUDE. Your story, your present life; you, yourself--such a
contradiction to what you profess! Well, it all has a sort of
fascination for me.
AGNES. My dear, you're simply not sleeping again. [Turning away.] You'd
better go back to the ammonia Kirke prescribed for you.
GERTRUDE. [Taking a card from her purse, with a little, light laugh.]
You want to physic me, do you, after worrying my poor brain as you've
done? [Going to her.] "The Rectory, Daleham, Ketherick Moor."
Yorkshire, you know. There can be no great harm in your writing to me
sometimes.
AGNES [Refusing the card.] No; under the circumstances I can't promise
that.
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