AGNES. [Laughing.] I've never fainted before in my life; I don't mean to do so again.
KIRKE. [Writing.] Should you alter your mind about that, do select a suitable spot on the next occasion. What was it your head came against?
GERTRUDE. A wooden chest, Mr. Cleeve thinks.
AGNES. With beautiful, rusty, iron clamps. [Putting her hand to her head, and addressing GERTRUDE.] The price of vanity.
KIRKE. Vanity?
AGNES. Lucas was to take me out to dinner. While I was waiting for him to dress I must needs stand and survey my full length in a mirror.
KIRKE. [Glancing at her.] A very excusable proceeding.
AGNES. Suddenly the room sank and left me—so the feeling was—in the air.
KIRKE. Well, most women can manage to look in their pier-glasses without swooning—eh, Mrs Thorpe?
GERTRUDE. [Smiling.] How should I know doctor?