Michael.
(Putting his arms about her.) Patricia! And the poor head is really better, darling? I’m so glad you were able to sleep!
(Clare looks at them with bored contempt, shrugs her shoulders, goes to the tree, and starts climbing up it during the following.)
Lady Patricia.
And my sleep was full of dreams, Michael. Strange and mystic dreams—oh, and such beautiful dreams! For they all led up to a vision of my dearest’s face.
(Clare has vanished aloft.)
Michael.
Heart of my heart!
Lady Patricia.