DR. MACPHERSON. Because you don't believe anything; but you want to be on the safe side in case he—[Gesturing to desk.] was there.
FREDERIK. [Puzzled—awed—his voice almost dropping to a whisper.] How do you account for it, Doctor?
DR. MACPHERSON. It might have been an hallucination or perhaps you did see him, though it could have been inflammation of conscience, Frederik: when did you last see Annamarie?
FREDERIK. [Angrily.] Haven't I told you already that I refuse to answer any questions as to my—
DR. MACPHERSON. I think it only fair to tell you that it won't make a particle of difference whether you answer me or not. I have someone on the track now—working from an old address; I've called in the detectives and I'll find her, you may be sure of that. As long as I'm going to know it, I may as well hear your side of it, too. When did you last see Annamarie?
FREDERIK. [Sits—answers dully, mechanically, after a pause.] About three years ago.
DR. MACPHERSON. Never since?
FREDERIK. No.
DR. MACPHERSON. What occurred the last time you saw her?
FREDERIK. [Quietly, as before.] What always occurs when a young man realizes that he has his life before him, must be respected—looked up to, settle down, think of his future and forget a silly girl?