Lucy. (Taking his hand—effusively) Oh, my dear friend! My dear friend!
Paul. (As before) Oh, my, what a gift of love!
(Bellac moves a little to the left.)
Lucy. What is it?
Bellac. Nothing—nothing.—I thought—Read this book in which I have put my inmost thoughts, and you will find that we are in perfect accord, I am sure—except upon one point—Oh, that question——!
Lucy. Which?
Bellac. (Tenderly) Is it possible that you really do not believe in Platonic love?
Lucy. I? Not in the least!
Bellac. (Graciously) Very well, but what of our relations?
Lucy. (Simply) Our relations? Friendship!