sk you to leave us.

BILL hesitates; then shrugging his shoulders, he touches FREDA's
arms, and goes back into the workroom, closing the door. There
is silence.

LADY CHESHIRE. How did it come about?

FREDA. I don't know, my lady.

LADY CHESHIRE. For heaven's sake, child, don't call me that again,
whatever happens. [She walks to the window, and speaks from there]
I know well enough how love comes. I don't blame you. Don't cry.
But, you see, it's my eldest son. [FREDA puts her hand to her
breast] Yes, I know. Women always get the worst of these things.
That's natural. But it's not only you is it? Does any one guess?

FREDA. No.

LADY CHESHIRE. Not even your father? [FREDA shakes her head] There's
nothing more dreadful than for a woman to hang like a stone round a
man's neck. How far has it gone? Tell me!

FREDA. I can't.

LADY CHESHIRE. Come!

FREDA. I--won't.

LADY CHESHIRE. [Smiling painfully]. Won't give him away? Both of
you the same. What's the use of that with me? Look at me! Wasn't
he with you when you went for your holiday this summer?

FREDA. He's--always--behaved--like--a--gentleman.

LADY CHESHIRE. Like a man you mean!

FREDA. It hasn't been his fault! I love him so.

LADY CHESHIRE turns abruptly, and begins to walk up and down the
room. Then stopping, she looks intently at FREDA.

LADY CHESHIRE. I don't know what to say to you. It's simple
madness! It can't, and shan't go on.

FREDA. [Sullenly] I know I'm not his equal, but I am--somebody.

LADY CHESHIRE. [Answering this first assertion of rights with a
sudden steeliness] Does he love you now?

FREDA. That's not fair--it's not fair.

LADY CHESHIRE. If men are like gunpowder, Freda, women are not. If
you've lost him it's been your own fault.

FREDA. But he does love me, he must. It's only four months.

LADY CHESHIRE. [Looking down, and speaking rapidly] Listen to me.
I love my son, but I know him--I know all his kind of man. I've
lived with one for thirty years. I know the way their senses work.
When they want a thing they must have it, and then--they're sorry.

FREDA. [Sullenly] He's not sorry.

LADY CHESHIRE. Is his love big enough to carry you both over
everything?.... You know it isn't.

FREDA. If I were a lady, you wouldn't talk like that.

LADY CHESHIRE. If you were a lady there'd be no trouble before
either of you. You'll make him hate you.

FRE