MORE. No, dear! It's all right.
KATHERINE. [Turning away] Helen has just been telling me a dream she's had of Hubert's death.
MORE. Poor child!
KATHERINE. Dream bad dreams, and wait, and hide oneself—there's been nothing else to do. Nothing, Stephen—nothing!
MORE. Hide? Because of me?
[KATHERINE nods.]
MORE. [With a movement of distress] I see. I thought from your letters you were coming to feel——. Kit! You look so lovely!
[Suddenly he sees that she is crying, and goes quickly to her.]
MORE. My dear, don't cry! God knows I don't want to make things worse for you. I'll go away.
She draws away from him a little, and after looking long at her, he sits down at the dressing-table and begins turning over the brushes and articles of toilet, trying to find words.