RITA. But not out of love for him. Look into yourself! [With a certain shyness of expression.] Search out all that lies under—and behind your action.
ALLMERS. [Avoiding her eyes.] There is something you shrink from saying.
RITA. And you too.
ALLMERS. [Looks thoughtfully at her.] If it is as you say, then we two have never really possessed our own child.
RITA. No. Not in perfect love.
ALLMERS. And yet we are sorrowing so bitterly for him.
RITA. [With sarcasm.] Yes, isn't it curious that we should grieve like this over a little stranger boy?
ALLMERS. [With an outburst.] Oh, don't call him a stranger!
RITA. [Sadly shaking her head.] We never won the boy, Alfred. Not I—nor you either.
ALLMERS. [Wringing his hands.] And now it is too late! Too late!