That’s why, then, is it?
Leonard.
You are always cross. A fellow can stay away for a fortnight; it can have rained and shone again ten times over; but each time I see you, there’s always the same old cloud on your face.
Clara.
It used to be so different.
Leonard.
Yes, indeed! If you’d always looked as you do now, we’d never have been good friends.
Clara.
What does it matter?
Leonard.