amy. And forget. That seems simple enough, doesn't it?
trebell. If you don't want the child let it be mine . . not yours.
amy. [Wondering suddenly at this bond between them.] Yours! What would you do with it?
trebell. [Matter-of-fact.] Provide for it, of course.
amy. Never see it, perhaps.
trebell. Perhaps not. If there were anything to be gained . . for the child. I'll see that he has his chance as a human being.
amy. How hopeful! [Now her voice drops. She is looking back, perhaps at a past self.] If you loved me . . perhaps I might learn to love the thought of your child.
trebell. [As if half his life depended on her answer.] Is that true?
amy. [Irritably.] Why are you picking me to pieces? I think that is true. If you had been loving me for a long, long time— [The agony rushes back on her.] But now I'm only afraid. You might have some pity for me . . I'm so afraid.
trebell. [Touched.] Indeed . . indeed, I'll take what share of this I can.