LUCAS. You?
AGNES. Lucas, don't--don't make me paramount. [He moves to the end of
the settee, showing by a look that he desires her to sit by him. After
a moment's hesitation she takes her place beside him.]
LUCAS. [In an undertone.] I do make you paramount. I do. My dear girl,
under any circumstances you would still be everything to me--always.
[She nods with a vacant look.] There would have to be this pretence of
an establishment of mine--that would have to be faced; the whited
sepulchre, the mockery of dinners and receptions and so on. But it
would be to you I should fly for sympathy, encouragement, rest.