LUCAS. Mrs. Thorpe, the Duke of St. Olpherts wishes to be introduced to
you. [GERTRUDE inclines her head to the DUKE. LUCAS places the writing
materials on another table.]
ST. OLPHERTS. [Limping up to GERTRUDE and handling the tray.] I beg to
be allowed to help you. [At the table.] The tray here?
GERTRUDE. Thank you.
ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, how clumsy I am! We think it so gracious of you to
look after our poor friend here who is not quite herself today. [To
AGNES.] Come along, dear lady--everything is prepared for you. [To
GERTRUDE.] You are here with--your mother, I understand.
GERTRUDE. My brother.
ST. OLPHERTS. Brother. Now do tell me whether you find your--your
little hotel comfortable.
GERTRUDE. [Looking at him steadily.] We don't stay at one.
ST. OLPHERTS. Apartments?
GERTRUDE. Yes.
ST. OLPHERTS. Do you know, dear Mrs. Thorpe, I have always had the very
strongest desire to live in lodgings in Venice?
GERTRUDE. You should gratify it. Our quarters are rather humble; we are
in the Campo San Bartolomeo.
ST. OLPHERTS. But how delightful!
GERTRUDE. Why not come and see our rooms?
ST. OLPHERTS. [Bowing.] My dear young lady! [Producing a pencil and
writing upon his shirt-cuff.] Campo San Bartolomeo--