Vera—Well, perhaps. [She laughs a hard laugh.] What can you expect of a lumber dealer’s daughter?
The Dove—Why are you so restless, Vera?
Vera—Because I’m a woman. I leave my life entirely to my imagination and my imagination is terrific. I can’t even turn to religion for the prie-dieu inclines me to one thing only—so there you are!
The Dove—You imagine—many things?
Vera—You know well enough—sitting here day after day, giving my mind everything to do, the body nothing——
The Dove—What do you want, Vera?
Vera—Some people would say a lover, but I don’t say a lover; some people would say a home, but I don’t say a home. You see I have imagined myself beyond the need of the usual home and beyond the reach of the usual lover——
The Dove—Then?
Vera—Perhaps what I really want is a reason for using one of these pistols! [She laughs and lies back. The Dove, having risen, goes up behind Vera and places her hand on her throat.]
The Dove—Now you may use one of those pistols.