ALICE. I didn't knife you.
DEARTH. No. I suppose that was where you made the mistake. It is hard on you, old lady. (Becoming watery.) I suppose it's too late to try to patch things up?
ALICE. Let's be honest; it is too late, Will. DEARTH (whose tears would smell of brandy). Perhaps if we had had children—Pity!
ALICE. A blessing I should think, seeing what sort of a father they would have had.
DEARTH (ever reasonable). I dare say you're right. Well, Alice, I know that somehow it's my fault. I'm sorry for you.
ALICE. I'm sorry for myself. If I hadn't married you what a different woman I should be. What a fool I was.
DEARTH. Ah! Three things they say come not back to men nor women—the spoken word, the past life and the neglected opportunity. Wonder if we should make any more of them, Alice, if they did come back to us.
ALICE. You wouldn't.
DEARTH (avoiding a hiccup). I guess you're right.
ALICE. But I—