FREDA. No.
LADY CHESHIRE. Not even your father? [FREDA shakes her head] There's nothing more dreadful than for a woman to hang like a stone round a man's neck. How far has it gone? Tell me!
FREDA. I can't.
LADY CHESHIRE. Come!
FREDA. I—won't.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Smiling painfully]. Won't give him away? Both of you the same. What's the use of that with me? Look at me! Wasn't he with you when you went for your holiday this summer?
FREDA. He's—always—behaved—like—a—gentleman.
LADY CHESHIRE. Like a man you mean!
FREDA. It hasn't been his fault! I love him so.
LADY CHESHIRE turns abruptly, and begins to walk up and down the
room. Then stopping, she looks intently at FREDA.