RITA. [As if petrified.] And you dare say that to me!
ALLMERS. [More gently.] It is dead, Rita. But in what I now feel for you—in our common guilt and need of atonement—I seem to foresee a sort of resurrection—
RITA. [Vehemently.] I don't care a bit about any resurrection!
ALLMERS. Rita!
RITA. I am a warm-blooded being! I don't go drowsing about—with fishes' blood in my veins. [Wringing her hands.] And now to be imprisoned for life—in anguish and remorse! Imprisoned with one who is no longer mine, mine, mine!
ALLMERS. It must have ended so, sometime, Rita.
RITA. Must have ended so! The love that in the beginning rushed forth so eagerly to meet with love!
ALLMERS. My love did not rush forth to you in the beginning.
RITA. What did you feel for me, first of all?
ALLMERS. Dread.