[Nods.] And has made its father famous too.—That was your dream.
[More softly, with emotion.] It is to you I owe everything, everything, Irene—and I thank you.
[Lost in thought for a moment.] If I had then done what I had a right to do, Arnold—
Well? What then?
I should have killed that child.
Killed it, you say?
[Whispering.] Killed it—before I went away from you. Crushed it—crushed it to dust.
[Shakes his head reproachfully.] You would never have been able to, Irene. You had not the heart to do it.
No, in those days I had not that sort of heart.
But since then? Afterwards?