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.

GERTRUDE. [Wistfully.] Very well.

AGNES. [Facing her.] Oh, can't you understand that it can only be--
disturbing to both of us for an impulsive, emotional creature like
yourself to keep up acquaintanceship with a woman who takes life as I
do? We'll drop each other, leave each other alone. [She walks away, and
stands leaning upon the stove, her back towards GERTRUDE.]

GERTRUDE. [Replacing the card in her purse.] As you please. Picture me,
sometimes, in that big, hollow shell of a rectory at Ketherick,
strolling about my poor dead little chap's empty room.

AGNES. [Under her breath.] Oh!

GERTRUDE. [Turning to go.] God bless you.

AGNES. Gertrude! [With altered manner.] You--you have the trick of
making me lonely also. [Going to GERTRUDE, taking her hands and
fondling them.] I'm tired of talking to the walls! And your blood is
warm to me! Shall I tell you, or not--or not?

GERTRUDE. Do tell me.