STUDDENHAM. What's that, m'lady?
LADY CHESHIRE. [Under her breath] Your—your—hands.
While STUDDENHAM is still staring at her, FREDA is seen standing
in the doorway, like a black ghost.
STUDDENHAM. Come here! You! [FREDA moves a few steps towards her father] When did you start this?
FREDA. [Almost inaudibly] In the summer, father.
LADY CHESHIRE. Don't be harsh to her!
STUDDENHAM. Harsh! [His eyes again move from side to side as if pain and anger had bewildered them. Then looking sideways at FREDA, but in a gentler voice] And when did you tell him about—what's come to you?
FREDA. Last night.
STUDDENHAM. Oh! [With sudden menace] You young—! [He makes a convulsive movement of one hand; then, in the silence, seems to lose grip of his thoughts, and pits his hand up to his head] I want to clear me mind a bit—I don't see it plain at all. [Without looking at BILL] 'Tis said there's been an offer of marriage?
BILL. I've made it, I stick to it.