thomas. God! why did I come here?
mrs. r. Yes; why did you come? It was weak of you.
thomas. Because I never could resist women.
laura. Were you really mad when you died, Papa?
thomas. Yes, and am still: stark, staring, raving, mad, like all the rest of you.
laura. I am not aware that I am mad.
thomas. Then you are a bad case. Not to know it, is the worst sign of all. It's in the family: you can't help being. Everything you say and do proves it. . . . You were mad to come here. You are mad to remain here. You were mad to want to see me. I was mad to let you see me. I was mad at the mere sight of you; and I'm mad to be off again! Goodbye, Susan. If you send for me again, I shan't come!
(He puts on his hat with a flourish.)
laura. Where are you going, Father?
thomas. To Hell, child! Your Hell, my Heaven!