[He leans his elbows on table.
Rebecca.
Be a free man to the full, Rosmer—tell me your idea.
Rosmer.
[Gloomily.] I don't know what you'll say to it. It's this: Our platonic comradeship was all very well while I was peaceful and happy. Now that I am bothered and badgered, I feel—why, I can't exactly explain, but I do feel that I must oppose a new and living reality to the gnawing memories of the past. I should perhaps, explain that this is equivalent to an Ibsenian proposal.
Rebecca.
[Catches at the chair-back with joy.] How? at last—a rise at last! [Recollects herself.] But what am I about? Am I not an emancipated enigma? [Puts her hands over her ears as if in terror.] What are you saying? You mustn't. I can't think what you mean. Go away, do!
Rosmer.
[Softly.] Be the new and living reality. It is the only way to put Beata out of the Saga. Shall we try it?
Rebecca.