MRS. JOHN
Because no good'd come of it this day. Wait till to-morrow, five o'clock in the afternoon.
PAULINE
That's it. My landlady says it was written that way, that a gentleman from the city'll be here to-morrow afternoon five o'clock.
MRS. JOHN
[Pushing PAULINE out and herself going out of the room with her, in the same detached tone.] All right. Let him come, girl.
MRS. JOHN has gone out into the hall for a moment. She now returns without PAULINE. She seems strangely changed and absent-minded. She takes a few hasty steps toward the door of the partition; then stands still with an expression of fruitless brooding on her face. She interrupts herself in this brooding and runs to the window. Having reached it she turns and on her face there reappears the expression of dull detachment. Slowly, like a somnambulist, she walks up to the table and sits down beside it, leaning her chin on her hand. SELMA KNOBBE appears in the doorway.
SELMA
Mother's asleep, Mrs. John, an' I'm that hungry. Might I have a bite o' bread?
MRS. JOHN rises mechanically and cuts a slice from the loaf of bread with the air of one under an hypnotic influence.