Margaret. [Coming up to them] He didn’t give you my note?
Gray. He never looked at me. What note?
Margaret. I—
Gray. Aren’t you ready? Why aren’t you dressed?
Margaret. I—
Gray. You must be quick, dearest.
Margaret. I— [She sways where she stands.]
Gray goes to her, and half clinging to him, half repulsing him, she sits down with her arm on the table and her head on her arm.
Gray. Of course! Worn out! You should have come an hour ago.
Margaret. Yes.