LEONARD. Go with my mother, Mary.
MARY. I can’t make you out. You talk so fine and yet—
MRS. TIMBRELL. Come.
MARY. [Going, turns and says to LEONARD.] Why were you going away?
TIMBRELL. Going away?
MARY. He was packing his things.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Why, Leonard?
LEONARD. What a brute I am.
MRS. TIMBRELL. You were going away?