Trebell. My dear girl, I'm sorry to be brutal. Does it matter so much to you that I should have wished to be the father of your child?
Amy. [Ungracious but pacified by his change of tone.] It doesn't matter now.
Trebell. [Friendly still.] On principle I don't make promises. But I think I can promise you that if you keep your head and will keep your health, this shall all be made as easy for you as if everyone could know. And let's think what the child may mean to you ... just the fact of his birth. Nothing to me, of course! Perhaps that accounts for the touch of jealousy. I've forfeited my rights because I hadn't honourable intentions. You can't forfeit yours. Even if you never see him and he has to grow up among strangers ... just to have had a child must make a difference to you. Of course, it may be a girl. I wonder.
As he wanders on so optimistically she stares at him and her face changes. She realises....
Amy. Do you expect me to go through with this? Henry! ... I'd sooner kill myself.
There is silence between them. He looks at her as one looks at some unnatural thing. Then after a moment he speaks, very coldly.
Trebell. Oh ... indeed. Don't get foolish ideas into your head. You've no choice now ... no reasonable choice.
Amy. [Driven to bay; her last friend an enemy.] I won't go through with it.
Trebell. It hasn't been so much the fear of scandal then—
Amy. That wouldn't break my heart. You'd marry me, wouldn't you? We could go away somewhere. I could be very fond of you, Henry.