Walter (quick step to him). You thick-headed-addle-pated numskull!
(Jack in fright falls headlong backwards over sofa L., Stella runs and crouches R., then they rise on knees and wave to pacify him.)
Jack. Gently, gently!
Stella. Oh, please, Mr. Davidson, please don’t be so angry; we are both awfully interested in you and really sorry for you. It must be terrible to be born full grown.
Walter. Am I mad, or are you?
Jack. You are.
Walter. That’s settled.
Stella. Of course, you think you’re real, but we know. You’re only a made thing, like a cheese or a pudding.
Walter (hand to head). You honestly say and believe that I am my own invention? (They nod solemnly.)
Walter. Am I myself, or am I the thing I made?