Simpson departs and Trebell comes to her for his letters. She looks at him with baffled affection.
Frances. Can I do nothing? Oh, Henry!
Trebell. Help me to open my letters.
Frances. Don't you leave them to Mr. Kent?
Trebell. Not this morning.
Frances. But there are so many.
Trebell. [For the first time lifting his voice from its dull monotony.] What a busy man I was.
Frances. Henry ... you're a little mad.
Trebell. Do you find me so? That's interesting.
Frances. [With the ghost of a smile.] Well ... maddening.