She goes to him and slips an arm over his shoulder.
Frances. What is it you're worried about ... if a mere sister may ask?
Trebell. [Into the fire.] I want to think. I haven't thought for years.
Frances. Why, you have done nothing else.
Trebell. I've been working out problems in legal and political algebra.
Frances. You want to think of yourself.
Trebell. Yes.
Frances. [Gentle and ironic.] Have you ever, for one moment, thought in that sense of anyone else?
Trebell. Is that a complaint?
Frances. The first in ten years' housekeeping.