Tim: You’ve never had to.
Ann (to herself): Oh, my dear.
Tim: I always hope that there are going to be little things that I can do for you. I don’t ask you to need things. I only long—quite passionately—for you to want some thing.
Ann: It is so complicated—I need your love and I want you to be happy.
Tim: How deliciously simple that would be. You have my love and you make me happy.
Ann: Happy?
Tim: My love for you doesn’t make me unhappy any more. It has become a sort of religion.
Ann: Tim——
Tim: My reverent adoration is without requests and without claims. I don’t want you to step down off your altar, dearest.
Ann: Tim, you frighten me.