AGNES. Excuse me. [She goes to the window and opens it.]

GERTRUDE. Oh, Mrs Cleeve! [Entering the room.] Am I in the way?

AGNES. You are never that, my dear. Run along to my room; I'll call you
in a minute or two. [GERTRUDE nods, and goes to the door.] Take off you
hat and sit with me for a while.

GERTRUDE. I'll stay for a bit, but this hat doesn't take off. [She goes
out]

AGNES. [To SIR GEORGE and KIRKE.] Yes?

SIR GEORGE. We are glad to be able to give a most favourable report. I
may say that Mr Cleeve has never appeared to be in better health.

AGNES. [Drawing a deep breath.] He will be very much cheered by what
you say.

SIR GEORGE. [Bowing stiffly.] I'm glad--

AGNES. His illness left him with a morbid, irrational impression that
he would never be his former self again.

SIR GEORGE. A nervous man recovering from a scare. I've helped remove
that impression I believe.

AGNES. Thank you. We have a troublesome, perhaps a hard time before us;
we both need all our health and spirits. [Turning her head, listening.]
Lucas?