(Dr. Thorne does not smile.)
Cleo (abruptly). Esmerald Thorne, do you know what has happened? You are in an uninhabited world—with me. You are in a dead world, burnt to ashes, burnt to slag and lava by its own fires. You are alone in it—alone with me.... (In a changed voice.) And I meant you should be. Oh, I’ve dreamed of this for years. I’ve held my breath for it, perished for it.... Now, here we are—we two outcasts from the religious idea—we who always rebelled against it, by the very bone and tissue of our being.... We two (tenderly) alone, at last. (She advances towards him, and for the first time touches him, gently laying her hand upon his shoulder.)
Dr. Thorne (not rudely, but positively, removes her hand, stepping back quickly, so that her arm falls heavily by her side). Woman! Woman, what are you? A spirit damned, or a spirit deluded?... I confess I never knew. And I don’t know any better now.
Cleo (more modestly lifts his hand to her cheek; speaks gently). Do you know any better now?
Dr. Thorne (withdrawing his hand). My wife always said you were half angel, half the other thing. She pitied you, I think. I confess I never did, very much.
Cleo (wretchedly). I never asked for the pity of Helen Thorne!
Dr. Thorne (firmly). You might well receive it, Madam. It would not harm you any.
Cleo (suddenly). Oh, everybody knew you were an irreproachable husband. A blameless physician, of course. But we have changed all that. You are quite free now—as free as I am, for that matter....
Dr. Thorne (nobly). Yes; I am free, as you say. I am free to mourn my wife, and love her ... and await her presence ... which has a value to me that I do not ... I cannot discuss—with you.
Cleo (rebuffed, but gentle and sad). I beg your pardon, Dr. Thorne.