The milk?... Oh, yes. I see.
(Pours her out inadvertently some of the hot milk for the coffee, and kneeling at her side, offers it to her.)
Lady Patricia.
(Taking milk.) Don’t kneel to me—don’t kneel to me! (She takes a sip of milk and hands it back to him with a wry face.) It is boiled.... (He places it back on the table.)
Michael.
(Returning to her.) Patricia!
Lady Patricia.
No—no—no—no! Don’t look at me—don’t touch me—stand up—stand away from me....
Michael.
Patricia!