LEONARD. What is it you want? I see you watching me anxiously sometimes. I can’t make myself into another person but I’d like to please you. What do you want me to do?
MARY. I suppose it’s a lot of little things.
LEONARD. Yes, yes. Can you tell me some of them?
MARY. While we’re talking here you might have gone for the doctor.
LEONARD. The doctor?
MARY. You forget him. You often forget all about little Leonard. [Rising.] I must go to him.
LEONARD. Ah! Yes. Mrs. Greaves said he was peaked. Peaked! Good word isn’t it? Shakespeare has it, you know: “Shall he dwindle, peak and pine”—
MARY. But you don’t think he’s pining, do you?
LEONARD. No, no. I’m only quoting the poet.
MARY. Why do you say things like that—just to amuse yourself—and you might know they frighten me? That’s it. You don’t think of other people—except now and then when you seem to get interested.