AGNES. [Rising unsteadily.] Ah—! [She makes a movement to go, falters, and irresolutely sits again.] My influence—mine!
SYBIL. [With a stamp of the foot.] You wouldn't underrate your power if you had seen him, heard him, about an hour ago—[mockingly] after he had discovered his bereavement.
AGNES. He will soon forget me.
SYBIL. Yes—if you don't forsake him.
AGNES. I am going to England, into Yorkshire; according to your showing, that should draw him back.
SYBIL. Oh, I've no doubt that we shall hear of him—in Yorkshire!
You'll find him dangling about your skirts—in Yorkshire!
AGNES. And he will find that I am determined—strong.
SYBIL. Ultimately he will tire, of course. But when? And what assurance have we that he returns to us when he has wearied of pursuing you? Besides, don't I tell you that we must make sure of him now? It's of no use his begging us, in a month's time, to patch up home and reputation. It must be now—and you can end our suspense. Come, hideous as it sounds, this is not much to ask.
AGNES. [Shrinking from her.] Oh—!
SYBIL. Oh, don't regard me as the wife! That's an unnecessary sentiment, I pledge you my word. It's a little late in the day, too, for such considerations. So, come, help us!