frances. No one knows about you and poor Amy?
trebell. Half a dozen friends. Shall I offer to give evidence at the inquest this morning?
frances. [With a little shiver.] They'll say bad enough things about her without your blackening her good name.
Without warning, his anger and anguish break out again.
trebell. All she had . . all there is left of her! She was a nothingness . . silly . . vain. And I gave her this power over me!
He is beaten, exhausted. Now she goes to him, motherlike.
frances. My dear, listen to me for a little. Consider that as a sorrow and put it behind you. And think now . . whatever love there may be between us has neither hatred nor jealousy in it, has it, Henry? Since I'm not a mistress or a friend but just the likest fellow-creature to you . . perhaps.
trebell. [Putting out his hand for hers.] Yes, my sister. What I've wanted to feel for vague humanity has been what I should have felt for you . . if you'd ever made a single demand on me.
She puts her arms round him; able to speak.
frances. Let's go away somewhere . . I'll make demands. I need refreshing as much as you. My joy of life has been withered in me . . oh, for a long time now. We must kiss the earth again . . take interest in common things, common people. There's so much of the world we don't know. There's air to breathe everywhere. Think of the flowers in a Tyrol valley in the early spring. One can walk for days, not hurrying, as soon as the passes are open. And the people are kind. There's Italy . . there's Russia full of simple folk. When we've learned to be friends with them we shall both feel so much better.