STRANGER. Give the wrapper, if your conscience can make such fine distinctions between it and the letter.
LADY (picking up the letter-bag, which she has hidden behind the seat). Look at this! (The STRANGER takes the photograph, looks at it carefully, and puts it in his breast-pocket.) What was it?
STRANGER. The past.
LADY. Was it beautiful?
STRANGER. Yes. More beautiful than the future can ever be.
LADY (darkly). You shouldn't have said that.
STRANGER. No, I admit it. And I'm sorry....
LADY. Tell me, are you capable of suffering?
STRANGER. Now, I suffer twice; because I feel when you're suffering. And if I wound you in self-defence, it's I who gets fever from the wound.
LADY. That means you're at my mercy?