Denham.
Will you never make peace?
Mrs. Denham.
The only peace I can make.
Denham.
What do you mean?
Mrs. Denham.
I shall trouble you no longer.
Denham.
My dear girl, don't talk like that. It is ghastly. Constance, I must go to Fitzgerald with this wretched drawing. I have to give some directions about the reproduction. I sha'n't be long. Promise me that you won't do anything foolish—that I shall find you here when I come back.