FREDA
Her ways are different from the Lord's.
(She pulls her chair alongside of his, and rests one hand for a moment, caressingly, on his. Speaks softly.)
And aren't you glad?
(The caress has its effect. He is soothed, and puffs away at cigar with half-closed eyes.)
(Freda, unobserved, throws a swift glance at clock, listens intently as for sounds from without of an approaching sled, and betrays to her audience her anxiety and restlessness.)
(Maid enters with two glasses on a tray. Freda, observed by Vanderlip, sips from one glass, nods head approvingly, and passes it to him. Takes other glass herself.)