Gertrude.  But tell me—­you don’t know how I—­how I have liked you!—­ tell me, if Mr. Cleeve’s wife divorces him, he will marry you?

Agnes.  No.

Gertrude.  No!

Agnes.  No.  I haven’t made you quite understand—­Lucas and I don’t desire to marry, in your sense.

Gertrude.  But you are devoted to each other!

Agnes.  Thoroughly.

Gertrude.  What, is that the meaning of “for as long as you are together?” You would go your different ways if ever you found that one of you was making the other unhappy?

Agnes.  I do mean that.  We remain together only to help, to heal, to console.  Why should men and women be so eager to grant to each other the power of wasting life?  That is what marriage gives—­the right to destroy years and years of life.  And the right, once given, it attracts —­attracts!  We have both suffered from it.  So many rich years out of my life have been squandered by it.  And out of his life, so much force, energy—­spent in battling with the shrew, the termagant he has now fled from; strength never to be replenished, never to be repaid—­all wasted, wasted!

Gertrude.  Your legal marriage with him might not bring further miseries.

Agnes.  Too late!  We have done with marriage; we distrust it.  We are not now among those who regard marriage as indispensable to union.  We have done with it!

Gertrude. [Advancing to her.] You know that it would be impossible for me, if I would do so, to deceive my brother as to all this.

Agnes.  Why, of course, dear.

Gertrude. [Looking at her watch.] Amos must be wondering—­

Agnes.  Run away, then. [Gertrude crosses quickly to the door.]

Gertrude [Retracing a step or two.] Shall I see you—?  Oh!

Agnes. [Shaking her head.] Ah!

Gertrude. [Going to her, constrainedly.] When Amos and I have talked this over, perhaps—­perhaps—­

Agnes.  No, I fear not.  Come, my dear friend—­[with a smile]—­give me a shake of the hand.

Gertrude. [Taking her hand.] What you’ve told me is dreadful. [Looking into Agnes’ face.] And yet you’re not a wicked woman! [Kissing Agnes.] In case we don’t meet again. [The women separate quickly, looking towards the door, as Lucas enters.]

Lucas. [Shaking hands with Gertrude.] How do you do, Mrs Thorpe?  I’ve just had a wave of the hand from your brother.

Gertrude.  Where is he?

Lucas.  On his back in a gondola, a pipe in his mouth as usual, gazing skywards. [Going on to the balcony.] He’s within hail. [Gertrude goes quickly to the door, followed by Agnes.] There!  By the Palazzo Sforza. [He re-enters the room; Gertrude has disappeared.  He is going towards the door.] Let me get hold of him, Mrs. Thorpe.