Wait, will you, Mr. Custis? I want to ask you some questions.
He goes out. It is getting dark, and SUSAN lights a lamp and draws the curtains. CUSTIS stands by the door looking after LINCOLN.
Custis: He very good man.
Susan: You've found that out, have you?
Custis: Do you love him, you white girl?
Susan: Of course I do.
Custis: Yes, you must.
Susan: He's a real white man. No offence, of course.
Custis: Not offend. He talk to me as if black no difference.
Susan: But I tell you what, Mr. Custis. He'll kill himself over this war, his heart's that kind—like a shorn lamb, as they say.