Thérèse. Now you know you've tried already. Only last year you wanted to leave home and be independent, and you had to go back because you were starving. Isn't that true?
René. It's dreadful, dreadful! [He is overcome, terrified]
Thérèse. So we must look at life as it is, practically, mustn't we? We have to have lodging and furniture and clothes. How are we to manage?
René. It's dreadful!
Thérèse. How would you bear to see me going about in rags? [He is silent. She waits, looking at him, hoping for a word of strength or courage. It does not come. She draws herself up slowly, her face hardening] You can't face that, can you? Tell me. Can you face that?
René. No.
Thérèse [humiliated by his want of courage and infected by his weakness] So you see, I'm right.
René [sobbing] Oh! Oh!
Thérèse [setting her teeth] Oh, can you do nothing but cry?
René. What a useless creature I am.