Bertha
[Clasping her hands.] You hate me. You think I am happy. If you only knew how wrong you are!
Beatrice
[Shakes her head.] I do not.
Bertha
Happy! When I do not understand anything that he writes, when I cannot help him in any way, when I don't even understand half of what he says to me sometimes! You could and you can. [Excitedly.] But I am afraid for him, afraid for both of them. [She stands up suddenly and goes towards the davenport.] He must not go away like that. [She takes a writing pad from the drawer and writes a few lines in great haste.] No, it is impossible! Is he mad to do such a thing? [Turning to Beatrice.] Is he still at home?
Beatrice
[Watching her in wonder.] Yes. Have you written to him to ask him to come here?
Bertha
[Rises.] I have. I will send Brigid across with it. Brigid!
[She goes out by the door on the left rapidly.]
Beatrice
[Gazing after her, instinctively.] It is true, then!
[She glances toward the door of Richard's study and catches her head in her hands. Then, recovering herself, she takes the paper from the little table, opens it, takes a spectacle case from her handbag and, putting on a pair of spectacles, bends down, reading it. Richard Rowan enters from the garden. He is dressed as before but wears a soft hat and carries a thin cane.]
