{Eric.} _(C.)_ Thank you for seeing me. {Kate.} You ought to hate me for it. _(on sofa)_ {Eric.} I should have delayed this till you were stronger, but I was in dread that you would go without a word. {Kate.} I leave Market-Sinfield to-morrow. I should not have said good-bye to you. You look tired and worn out. _(Eric advances to sit beside her, she checks him and points to stool C.)_ Sit down--there. _(he sits wearily)_ Has your mother written? {Eric.} _(with a short bitter laugh produces a letter from his pocket-book)_ _(C.)_ Oh, yes; here is my conge. The gates of The Packmores are shut and locked. Stibbs, the butler, has orders to clear out everything that spells the name of Eric. Poor mother! {Kate.} Ah, that needn't be now; you must tell her we have quarrelled, that I have jilted you, or you me --anything for a home. {Eric.} _(rises)_ Home, Kate! Home! That's all over. _(comes down C.)_ {Kate.} Hush! hush! {Eric.} I've been with Sylvester, our lawyer, this morning; he is going to raise money on the reversion of my aunt Tylcote's little place, which must come to me. It is the merest trifle, but it is something. And I've written to the agents in town about setting aside half my pay. {Kate.} _(looking up)_ What is the meaning of that? {Eric.} For you, Kate. I've no thought but for you, dear, and the little heart which is to beat against yours. {Kate.} _(starts up--rises)_ Oh, Eric, unless you wish to make me mad, you mustn't be kind to me, I can't bear it. _(advancing C. firmly)_ Why, Eric, do you think I'd let you pinch and struggle for me! _(they meet C.)_ {Eric.} _(hotly)_ Why, Kate, you wouldn't live in a fashion that doesn't become my wife! _(He stops short--they look at each other, then turn away.)_ {Kate.} _(sits again on sofa--under her breath)_ Oh, Eric, what made you say that? {Eric.} It slipped from me--I didn't meant to say it. Oh, it comes so naturally, _(goes up to L., of L. window)_ {Kate.} It doesn't matter; it's all through wrangling about miserable money, _(goes to R., of L. window)_ _(The lights are getting duller, the faint glow of the setting sun is seen outside the windows.)_ Look! there's the sun going down; we mustn't stay here longer. _(She comes closer to him, looking up into his face. They stand with their hands behind them.)_ There's time only for one last word. {Eric.} I'm listening, _(coming down R.)_ {Kate.} _(tearfully)_ It's this. You may--of course--write to me--to the Post Office at Bale, for the present. Not to make it a tax upon you. But when you've nothing better or more cheerful to do-- oh, write to me then!