[She gives him her hand.
Tim (kissing it): Sometimes I have wondered what it would feel like to kiss you—just once.
Ann (putting her face up to him): There.
Tim: No. I’m not going to take advantage of your generosity. It would be sacrilege. I am not an irreverent worshipper nor an ungrateful one. I am proud to be allowed to kiss your finger tips.
Ann (bitterly): Why is it the selfish people who get so much out of one? Why do we go on pouring ourselves into shallow streams? Why can’t we love the people we want to love?
Tim (simply): I do.
Ann: Tim—I wish you didn’t think such wonderful things about me. Some day you will be so shocked. So surprised.
Tim: Never.
Ann: You will find out that I am not a saint at all.
Tim: I know you are a saint. Nothing can alter that.