AGNES. [Quietly, but with intensity.] I shall defeat him. I shall defeat him.
GERTRUDE. Defeat him? You will succeed in holding Mr. Cleeve, you mean?
AGNES. Oh, if you put it in that way—
GERTRUDE. Oh, come, I remember all you told me this afternoon. [With disdain.] So it has already arrived, then, at a simple struggle to hold Mr. Cleeve?
[There is a pause. AGNES, without answering, stretches out her hand to the wine. Her hand shakes—she withdraws it helplessly.]
GERTRUDE. What do you want—wine?
[AGNES nods. GERTRUDE pours out wine and gives her the glass. AGNES drains it eagerly and replaces it.]
GERTRUDE. Agnes—
AGNES. Yes?
GERTRUDE. You are dressed very beautifully.