ANNA. I—never! I——!
CHLOE. To spy! You're a fool, too. What is there to spy on?
ANNA. Nothing, ma'am. Of course, if you're not satisfied with me, I must give notice. Only—if I were spying, I should expect to have notice given me. I've been accustomed to ladies who wouldn't stand such a thing for a minute.
CHLOE: [Intently] Well, you'll take a month's wages and go tomorrow. And that's all, now.
[ANNA inclines her head and goes out.]
[CHLOE, with a sort of moan, turns over and buries her face in the cushion.]
CHLOE. [Sitting up] If I could see that man—if only—or Dawker—-
[She springs up and goes to the door, but hesitates, and comes back to the head of the sofa, as ROLF comes in. During this scene the door is again opened stealthily, an inch or too.]
ROLF. How's the head?
CHLOE. Beastly, thanks. I'm not going into dinner.