(When they reach door.)
Help me on with my moccasins, Floyd.
(He hesitates, with a last faint spark of rebellion. She looks at him, blazingly imperious.)
There they are.
(He is beaten. Stoops for moccasins. She sits down on bench. He puts moccasins on her feet. They stand up. He helps her on with her cloak. While he is putting on his own moccasins and a big bearskin overcoat, she pulls hood of cloak over her head and covering her ears. Then she puts on her mittens. Then she waits for him. He puts on cap and mittens and opens street door.)
(Recollecting, and turning toward Mrs. McFee.)
Go, get my mask.
(He obeys, amid dead silence. Mrs. McFee mechanically surrenders mask to him. He returns. Opens door. Freda passes out. He follows.)