Thank God!
(Without looking toward street door, or becoming aware that Mrs. Eppingwell still remains, Freda goes rapidly to right, to couch, sobs struggling up, her breast heaving. She sinks to floor, resting arms on couch, face buried in arms and couch, and sobs convulsively.)
(Mrs. Eppingwell comes forward and touches Freda on shoulder.)
FREDA
(Starting, but not looking up.)
It is all right, Minnie. You may go to bed.
(Goes on sobbing.)
(Mrs. Eppingwell waits a moment, sits down on couch, and rests hand on Freda's head.)
MRS. EPPINGWELL
(Very gently.)