Kit. My head’s like a humming top; it serves me right for drinking.
Arethusa. Oh, and the blind man! (She runs, L., to the corner cupboard, brings a bottle and glass, and fills and offers glass.) Here, lad, drink that.
Kit. To you! That’s better. (Bottle and glass remain on Gaunt’s table.)
Arethusa. Suppose you miss him?
Kit. Miss him! The road is straight; and I can hear the tap-tapping of that stick a mile away.
Arethusa (listening). ’St! my father stirring in his room!
Kit. Let me get clear; tell him why when I’m gone. The door——?
Arethusa. Locked!
Kit. The window!