AGNES. Yes, yes; and for the past few days this idea has filled me with a fear of the most humiliating kind.
GERTRUDE. What fear?
AGNES. The fear lest, after all my beliefs and protestations, I should eventually find myself loving Lucas in the helpless, common way of women—
GERTRUDE. [Under her breath.] I see.
AGNES. The dread that the moment may arrive some day when should it be required of me, I shan't feel myself able to give him up easily. [Her head drooping, uttering a low moan.] Oh!—
[LUCAS, dressed for going out, enters, carrying AGNES'S copy of his manuscript, rolled and addressed for the post. AGNES rises.]
AGNES. [To LUCAS.] Mrs. Thorpe starts for home tomorrow; she has called to say good-bye.
LUCAS. [To GERTRUDE.] It is very kind. Is your brother quite well?
GERTRUDE. [Embarrassed.] Thanks: quite.
LUCAS. [Smiling.] I believe I have added to his experience of the obscure corners of Venice during the past week.