Aubrey.
An attachment?
Mrs. Cortelyon.
Yes, Aubrey. [After a little pause.] Well, I suppose I've got myself into sad disgrace. But really I didn't foresee anything of this kind. A serious, reserved child like Ellean, and a boyish, high-spirited soldier—it never struck me as being likely. [Aubrey paces to and fro thoughtfully.] I did all I could directly Captain Ardale spoke—wrote to you at once. Why on earth don't you receive your letters promptly, and when you do get them why can't you open them? I endured the anxiety till last night, and then made up my mind—home! Of course, it has worried me terribly. My head's bursting. Are there any salts about? [Aubrey fetches a bottle from the cabinet and hands it to her.] We've had one of those hateful smooth crossings that won't let you be properly indisposed.
Aubrey.
My dear Alice, I assure you I've no thought of blaming you.
Mrs. Cortelyon.
That statement always precedes a quarrel.
Aubrey.