Is she not yours too?
Mrs. Denham.
She loves you; she does not love me. I suppose I don't deserve it. I know you think I have been a bad wife, a bad mother. I am better out of your way. (Weeps.)
Denham.
This is morbid. Oh, if I could have cured you! Constance! (He caresses her hair.)
Mrs. Denham.
Don't touch me! It is an insult.
Denham.
(sighing) I suppose I have lost the right of comforting you. (Crosses r.)
Mrs. Denham.