Why dinna you tell the hussy to go?
MRS. EPPINGWELL
(Masterfully.)
Be quiet.
FREDA
(Breaking down, seeming to droop for an instant, with one short dry sob or catch in the throat.)
Yes, I will go, Mrs. Eppingwell.
(Turning to Vanderlip.)
Will you come, Floyd?
(Vanderlip looks to Mrs. Eppingwell for consent.)