LADY. Yes. And when it goes in, I make the best of it.

MOTHER. To change the subject: did you know your husband was being
pressed by the courts on account of his debts?

LADY. Yes. It happens to all writers.

MOTHER. Is he mad, or a rascal?

LADY. He's neither. He's no ordinary man; and it's a pity I can
tell him nothing he doesn't know already. That's why we don't speak
much; but he's glad to have me near him; and so am I to be near
him.

MOTHER. You've reached calm water already? Then it can't be far to
the mill-race! But don't you think you'd have more to talk of, if
you read what he has written?

LADY. Perhaps. You can leave me the book, if you like.

MOTHER. Take it and hide it. It'll be a surprise if you can quote
something from his masterpiece.

LADY (hiding the book in her bag). He's coming. If he's spoken of
he seems to feel it from afar.

MOTHER. If he could only feel how he makes others suffer--from
afar. (Exit left.)

(The LADY, alone for an instant, looks at the book and seems taken