MRS. BRAMSON: Where's the telegram?

OLIVIA: I--I threw it away.

MRS. BRAMSON: Where d'you throw it?

OLIVIA: I--I----

MRS. BRAMSON: You haven't had any telegram.

OLIVIA (_impatiently_): No, I haven't!

MRS. BRAMSON: What's the matter with you?

OLIVIA: I can't stay in this house to-night.

MRS. BRAMSON: Why not?

OLIVIA: I'm frightened.

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh, don't be----

OLIVIA: Listen to me. I've never known before what it was to be
terrified. But when I saw today beginning to end, and to-night getting
nearer and nearer ... I felt my finger-tips getting cold. And I knew it
was fright ... stark fright. I'm not a fool, and I'm not hysterical ...
but I've been sitting in my room looking at myself in the glass, trying
to control myself, telling myself what are real things ... and what
aren't. I don't know any longer. The day's over. The forest's all round
us. Anything may happen.... You shouldn't stay in this house to-night.