GERTRUDE. [Breathlessly.] Mr Cleeve is out, I conclude?
AGNES. No. He is later than usual going out this afternoon.
GERTRUDE. [Irresolutely.] I don't think I'll wait, then.
AGNES. But do tell me: you have been crossing the streets to avoid me during the past week; what has made you come to see me now?
GERTRUDE. I would come. I've given poor Amos the slip; he believes I am buying beads for the Ketherick school-children.
AGNES. [Shaking her head.] Ah, Mrs. Thorpe!—
GERTRUDE. Of course, it's perfectly brutal to be underhanded. But we're leaving for home tomorrow; I couldn't resist it.
AGNES. [Coldly.] Perhaps I'm very ungracious—
GERTRUDE. [Taking AGNES' hand.] The fact is, Mrs. Cleeve—oh, what do you wish me to call you?
AGNES. [Withdrawing her hand.] Well—you're off tomorrow. Agnes will do.