[Hardly.] It is quenched—in one of us.
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.