Denham.

Nerves, nerves, as usual. She irritates you, and you irritate her.
The mere presence of a child sets your teeth on edge. (_Crosses, and
sits R of table._)

Mrs. Denham.

My brain has been torn to pieces by children all my life. I was a
slave to my own brothers and sisters, because I was the eldest.

Denham.

That was very hard, I know; but your own child is different, surely?

Mrs. Denham.

You seem to think I don't love her?

Denham.

Not wisely, but too well--as you love me.

(_Re-enter Undine, dressed to go out, and stands just inside door.
Mrs. Denham rises, and Undine comes slowly towards her._)

Mrs. Denham.

Well, dear, have you washed your hands and face?