LUCAS. Resign yourself? Has life with me become so distasteful?

AGNES. Has it? Think! Why, when I realised the actual terms of our
companionship--why didn't I go on my own way stoically? Why don't I go
at this very moment?

LUCAS. You really love me, do you mean--as simple, tender women are
content to love? [She looks at him, nods slowly, then turns away and
droops over the table. He raises her, and takes her in his arms.] My
dear girl! My dear, cold, warm-hearted girl! Ha! You couldn't bear to
see me packed up in one of the Duke's travelling boxes and borne back
to London--eh! [She shakes her head; her lips form the word "No".] No
fear of that, my--my sweetheart!

AGNES. [Gently pushing him from her.] Quick--dress--take me out.

LUCAS. You are shivering--get your thickest wrap.

AGNES. That heavy brown cloak of mine?

LUCAS. Yes.

AGNES. It's an old friend, but--dreadfully shabby. You will be ashamed
of me again.

LUCAS. Ashamed--!

AGNES. I'll write to Bardini about a new one tomorrow. I won't oppose
you--I won't repel you any more.