Vera—You are either quite an idiot, or a saint.
The Dove—I thought we had discussed that.
Vera—[Dashed but not showing it.] Yes, a saint.
The Dove—[Continuing.] I’m impatient of necessary continuity, I’m too sensitive, perhaps. I want the beautiful thing to be, how can logic have anything to do with it, or probable sequence?
Vera—You make my hair stand on end!
The Dove—Of course, that’s logical!
Vera—Then how is it you like Amelia? And how do you stand me?
The Dove—Because you are two splendid dams erected about two little puddles.
Vera—You’re horrid!
The Dove—Only horrid!