Nor. Beatrice! (recoiling)
Bea. Don’t shrink from me! Is it so wicked to want to be happy? (touching him)
Nor. Happy?
Bea. If I were only free! (goes down to R.C.)
Nor. (C.) You forget, though I have dropped in for a title, I am almost as poor as ever.
Bea. (goes up to him) But I am not. (laying her hand on his arm) Philip has left me everything if I survive him.
Sir Peter appears at the top of the staircase; she turns off suddenly, crossing Normantower, who goes down to R.C.
Bea. (goes towards foot of stairs) Well, doctor, how do you find your patient? (up C.)
Sir P. (up L.C.) Your husband is more seriously ill than I anticipated. (she glances at Normantower)
Nor. Ill!