Sterling. [With whispered intensity.] By God, if you are in love with my wife!
Warden. If you thought that out loud, I'd knock you down!
Sterling. Huh! you talk as if you thought I were a coward!
Warden. No, not a physical coward—I've seen you do too many plucky things—but a moral coward—yes, you are one!
[Straight to him, standing close and looking him squarely in the eyes.
Sterling. [Wavering.] Oh, you're too damned preachy!
[Mrs. Hunter enters Right with Clara. Mrs. Hunter shakes hands with Warden silently, happy in the feeling that she is in great affliction, and satisfied with the appearance and impression she is making. She carries her handkerchief, with its black border, ready in her hand. Clara has silently shaken hands with Warden, after her mother. She afterwards goes to Sterling and hands him several of the letters of condolence. She then goes to the window at Left, pulling aside the curtain, and stands looking out, rather bored, wishing she could go out and take a walk.
Mrs. Hunter. We will never forget your kindness. Will the evening papers have anything in, do you think?
Warden. No, not before morning.
Mrs. Hunter. [Sighs.] Every one was there.