Sir Sandford.  I demur to the expression “forced”, Sybil—­

Sybil.  Cannot we be left alone?  Surely—! [Sandford bows stiffly and moves away, following st. Olpherts.] However, there’s this to be said for them, poor people—­whatever is done to save my husband’s prospects in life must be done now.  It is no longer possible to play fast and loose with friends and supporters—­to say nothing of enemies.  His future now rests upon a matter of days—­hours almost. [Rising and walking about agitatedly.] That is why I am sent here—­well, why I am here.

Agnes. [In a low, quavering voice.] What is it you are all asking me to do now?

Sybil.  We are asking you to continue to—­to exert your influence over him for a little while longer.

Agnes. [Rising unsteadily.] Ah—! [She makes a movement to go, falters, and irresolutely sits again.] My influence—­mine!

Sybil. [With a stamp of the foot.] You wouldn’t underrate your power if you had seen him, heard him, about an hour ago—­[mockingly] after he had discovered his bereavement.

Agnes.  He will soon forget me.

Sybil.  Yes—­if you don’t forsake him.

Agnes.  I am going to England, into Yorkshire; according to your showing, that should draw him back.

Sybil.  Oh, I’ve no doubt that we shall hear of him—­in Yorkshire! 
You’ll find him dangling about your skirts—­in Yorkshire!

Agnes.  And he will find that I am determined—­strong.

Sybil.  Ultimately he will tire, of course.  But when?  And what assurance have we that he returns to us when he has wearied of pursuing you?  Besides, don’t I tell you that we must make sure of him now?  It’s of no use his begging us, in a month’s time, to patch up home and reputation.  It must be now—­and you can end our suspense.  Come, hideous as it sounds, this is not much to ask.

Agnes. [Shrinking from her.] Oh—!

Sybil.  Oh, don’t regard me as the wife!  That’s an unnecessary sentiment, I pledge you my word.  It’s a little late in the day, too, for such considerations.  So, come, help us!

Agnes.  I will not.

Sybil.  He has an old mother—­

Agnes.  Poor woman!

Sybil.  And remember, you took him away—!

Agnes.  I!

Sybil.  Practically you did—­with your tender nursing and sweet compassion.  Isn’t it straining a point—­to shirk bringing him back?

Agnes. [Rising.] I did not take him from you.  You—­you sent him to me.