MRS. G. Why, you are worse than ever, my dear! Both in one day! You have
not done that for twenty years.

GLADSTONE. I am sorry. I won't do it again.

MRS. G. Ah! so you say! Poor Mr. Morley will have to wait now. I had
promised him this. There!

(_Making him sit down, she puts the comforter round his neck, and gives
him a parting kiss_.)

And now I'm going.

GLADSTONE. Go, my love! I will come presently.

(_But he has not quite got rid of her. Her hands are now reaching down
to the back of the sofa behind him_.)

What are you looking for?

MRS. G. My knitting-needles. You are sitting on them. Now mind, you are
not to sit up!

GLADSTONE. I won't sit up long.

(_Quietly and serenely she goes to the door, looks back for a moment,
then glides through it, leaving behind a much-deceived husband, who will
not hear the sound of her solitary weeping, or see any signs of it on her
face when presently he comes to read Herrick at her bedside_.)