MARY. Do you?
LEONARD. Sometimes I think I do. I’m a bit afraid of you, though?
MARY. Of me? Afraid?
LEONARD. I’m afraid of the truth. I’m afraid of the hardness at the back of things. I like ideas and changes and poses and all the rest of it. You make me uneasy.
MARY. I shall never understand you.
LEONARD. I think you understand me very well. It’s only the things I say you don’t understand. Poor girl. I bewilder you. You’re quite right. I’m what you see. You keep thinking you don’t understand and that I may be better than that. You’re a brave, humble person. By God! There’s no one like you. I wish I was different. I wish I was like George Truefit.
MARY. Only a little bit like him. Yourself, too.
LEONARD. What must I do to be saved?
MARY. Now, you’re talking queer again.