FREDA
Her ways are different from the Lord's.
(She pulls her chair alongside of his, and rests one hand for a moment, caressingly, on his. Speaks softly.)
And aren't you glad?
(The caress has its effect. He is soothed, and puffs away at cigar with half-closed eyes.)
(Freda, unobserved, throws a swift glance at clock, listens intently as for sounds from without of an approaching sled, and betrays to her audience her anxiety and restlessness.)
(Maid enters with two glasses on a tray. Freda, observed by Vanderlip, sips from one glass, nods head approvingly, and passes it to him. Takes other glass herself.)
FREDA
Minnie. Candles.
(Maid moves about room, putting out lamps and lighting candles, which latter, with tissue-paper shades, shed softer light.)