Flo. Oh Herbert, dear brother! (Advances toward him.) Why, Herbie, can’t you speak to me?
Herb. (Advances.) Little Flossie!
Flo. Not so little now! (Grasping both his hands, hesitates.) I thought you might kiss your sister.
Herb. Flossie, can you forgive me? (Kisses her.)
Flo. Am I not your sister?
Herb. (Admiring her.) How you have grown! and how pretty you are! Just the image of mother. (Starts, wipes away tear.) Dare I ask her forgiveness, too? I cannot look her in the face.
Flo. Oh Herbert!
Herb. What is it, Flossie? How strange you look! Where is mother?
Flo. (Takes him gently by the hand and leads him to portrait.) There!
Herb. (Looks at picture then at Flo., staggers to chair.) Dead! God forgive me, I killed her. (Buries his face in his hands.)