Joe: Is it gentleness to plunge a dagger in a man and watch for his dying eye to glaze?
Betsy: It is a lie. Tell me it is a lie!
Joe: My dear. (Gently he touches her hand.)
Betsy: It is a lie.
Joe: We 'll pretend it is a lie.
(They sit for a moment without speaking.)
Betsy: How long, Joe, have you lived with us?
Joe: Two weeks, Betsy.
"From Monday to Monday, and then around again to Monday" Betsy: Two weeks? So short a time. From Monday to Monday and then around again to Monday. It is so brief a space that a flower would scarcely droop and wither. And yet the day you came seems already long ago. And all the days before are of a different life. It was another Betsy, not myself, who lived in this cabin on a Sunday before a Monday.