Gray. [Smiling] Not? There, sit quiet a moment. My dear—my dear heart—you’re all to pieces.
Margaret. I’m not coming.
Gray. [Checking what he takes for hysteria] Margaret—Margaret—
Margaret. I’m not coming. It’s Hilary.
Gray. What? Collapsed again? I thought as much.
Margaret. I—
Gray. Tragic! But—it simplifies his problem, poor devil. Has Alliot charge of him?
Margaret. No, no. It’s not that. He’s not ill. He’s well. That’s it. He’s well—and—he won’t let me go.
Gray. He won’t, won’t he? [He turns from her.]
Margaret. Where are you going?