MARY ROSE. The one who stole him from me.
HARRY. I see. Godsake, in a sort of way I suppose I am.
(He sits in the chair.)
MARY ROSE. Give him back to me.
HARRY. I wish I could. But I’m doubting he is gone beyond recall.
MARY ROSE (unexpectedly). Who is he?
HARRY. Do you mean you have forgotten who it is you are searching for?
MARY ROSE. I knew once. It is such a long time ago. I am so tired; please can I go away and play now?
HARRY. Go away? Where? You mean back to that—that place?
(She nods.)