AGNES. Er--quite.

GERTRUDE. I noticed the box this afternoon when I called.

AGNES. Mr. Cleeve wishes me to appear more like--more like--

GERTRUDE. An ordinary smart woman. [Contemptuously.] Well, you ought to
find no difficulty in managing that. You can make yourself very
charming, it appears.

[AGNES again reaches out a hand towards the wine. GERTRUDE pours a very
little wine into the wine-glass and takes up the glass; AGNES holds out
her hand to receive it.]

GERTRUDE. Do you mind my drinking from your glass?

AGNES. [Staring at her.] No.

[GERTRUDE empties the glass and then places it, in a marked way, on the
side of the table farthest from AGNES.]

GERTRUDE. [With a little shudder.] Ugh! Ugh! [AGNES moves away from
GERTRUDE, to the end of the settee, her head bowed, her hands
clenched.] I have something to propose. Come home with me tomorrow.

AGNES. [After a pause, raising her head.] Home--?

GERTRUDE. Ketherick. The very spot for a woman who wants to shut out
things. Miles and miles of wild moorland! For company, purple heath and
moss-covered granite, in summer; in winter, the moor-fowl and the snow