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FRANCES _comes in quickly, evidently in search of her brother. Though she has not been crying, her eyes are wide with grief._
FRANCES. Oh, Henry ... I'm so glad you're still up. [_She notices_ WEDGECROFT.] How d'you do, Doctor?
TREBELL. [_Doubling his mask of indifference._] Meistersinger's over early.
FRANCES. Is it?
TREBELL. Not much past twelve yet.
FRANCES. [_The little gibe lost on her._] It was Tristan to-night. I'm quite upset. I heard just as I was coming away ... Amy O'Connell's dead. [_Both men hold their breath._ TREBELL _is the first to find control of his and give the cue._]
TREBELL. Yes ... Wedgecroft has just told me.
FRANCES. She was only taken ill last week ... it's so extraordinary. [_She remembers the doctor._] Oh ... have you been attending her?
WEDGECROFT. Yes.
FRANCES. I hear there's to be an inquest.
WEDGECROFT. Yes.
FRANCES. But what has been the matter?
TREBELL. [_Sharply forestalling any answer._] You'll know to-morrow.
FRANCES. [_The little snub almost bewildering her._] Anything private? I mean....
TREBELL. No ... I'll tell you. Don't make Gilbert repeat a story twice....
He's tired with a good day's work.
WEDGECROFT. Yes ... I'll be getting away.
FRANCES _never heeds this flash of a further meaning between the two men._
FRANCES. And I meant to have gone to see her to-day. Was the end very sudden? Did her husband arrive in time?
WEDGECROFT. Yes.
FRANCES. They didn't get on ... he'll be frightfully upset.
TREBELL _resists a hideous temptation to laugh._
WEDGECROFT. Good night, Trebell.
TREBELL. Good night, Gilbert. Many thanks.
_There is enough of a caress in_ TREBELL'S _tone to turn_ FRANCES _towards their friend, a little remorseful for treating him so casually, now as always._
FRANCES. He's always thanking you. You're always doing things for him.
WEDGECROFT. Good night. [_Seeing the tears in her eyes._] Oh, don't grieve.
FRANCES. One shouldn't be sorry when people die, I know. But she liked me more than I liked her ... [_This time_ TREBELL _does laugh, silently._] ...
so I somehow feel in her debt and unable to pay now.
TREBELL. [_An edge on his voice._] Yes ... people keep on dying at all sorts of ages, in all sorts of ways. But we seem never to get used to it ...
narrow-minded as we are.
WEDGECROFT. Don't you talk nonsense.
TREBELL. [_One note sharper yet._] One should occasionally test one's sanity by doing so. If we lived in the logical world we like to believe in, I could also prove that black was white. As it is ... there are more ways of killing a cat than hanging it.
WEDGECROFT. Had I better give you a sleeping draught?
FRANCES. Are you doctoring him for once? Henry, have you at last managed to overwork yourself?
TREBELL. No ... I started the evening by a charming little dinner at the Van Meyer's ... sat next to Miss Grace Cutler, who is writing a _vie intime_ of Louis Quinze and engaged me with anecdotes of the same.
FRANCES. A champion of her s.e.x, whom I do not like.
WEDGECROFT. She's writing such a book to prove that women are equal to anything.
_He goes towards the door and_ FRANCES _goes with him._ TREBELL _never turns his head._
TREBELL. I shall not come and open the door for you ... but mind you shut it.
FRANCES _comes back._
FRANCES. Henry ... this is dreadful about that poor little woman.
TREBELL. An unwelcome baby was arriving. She got some quack to kill her.
_These exact words are like a blow in the face to her, from which, being a woman of brave common sense, she does not shrink._
TREBELL. What do you say to that?
_She walks away from him, thinking painfully._
FRANCES. She had never had a child. There's the common-place thing to say.... Ungrateful little fool! But....
TREBELL. If you had been in her place?
FRANCES. [_Subtly._] I have never made the mistake of marrying. She grew frightened, I suppose. Not just physically frightened. How can a man understand?
TREBELL. The fear of life ... do you think it was ... which is the beginning of all evil?
FRANCES. A woman must choose what her interpretation of life is to be ... as a man must too in his way ... as you and I have chosen, Henry.
TREBELL. [_Asking from real interest in her._] Was yours a deliberate choice and do you never regret it?
