Gertrude.
Very well.
[_Exit R_.]
[Marie _goes out on veranda--gives sign--returns--locks doors R.
and L.--then at C. door--in terror, with searching eyes, she
slowly retreats backwards, her eyes glued on the outer
darkness--until she finally covers her face with her hands, and
is standing against the wall_.]
George.
[_Enters_.] Here she is!!
Gypsy.
[_Enters_. George _goes out on veranda, looking off_.] Mine lady, mine
daughter--yes--don't be afraid. Oh, you are such a fine lady--you have
lover--you marry, they say----?
Marie.
[_Forcing herself to speak_.] No; I'm not to be married! It is
Gertrude, my foster sister.
Gypsy.
You no marry, eh? Never mind--you marry some day--some day [_Examining_
Marie's _dress with her fingers_.] What a fine dress you have, and all
wool---- [_Same with apron_.] Oh, and a silk apron--all silk! Give me,
give me?
[Marie _takes it off and gives it to her_.]
Gypsy.
Thank you--thank you!!! [_Kisses_ Marie's _sleeve and dress, but when
she would kiss her hand_, Marie _withdraws it quickly_.]
Marie.