George.
Marie, you should be loved, you must be loved--beyond all senses--loved beyond all measure!
Marie.
[Pointing towards R.] He loves me!
George.
He?--Bah!!!
Marie.
Don't be angry, George dear; you don't dare love me yourself. You can never be anything to me!
George.
No, never; for this house must be kept clean. No, no, this house must not be soiled. We would both suffocate in our shame. But we can think of what might have been; that is not sin, is it?