(Quietly.) How little you know women. In your comprehension we are automatons, puppets, with no hearts nor heats of desire of our own, with no springs of conduct save those of the immaculate and puritanical sort that New England crystallized a century or so ago.
Starkweather
(Suspiciously.) You mean that you and this man—?
Margaret
I mean nothing has passed between us. I mean that I am Tom's wife and Tommy's mother. What I did mean, you have no more understood than you understand me—or any woman.
Starkweather
(Relieved.) It is well.
Margaret
(Continuing.) And it is so easy. The concept is simple. A woman is human. That is all. Yet I do believe it is news to you.
(Enters Dobleman from right carrying a check in his hand. Starkweather, about to speak, pauses.) (Dobleman hesitates, and Starkweather nods for him to advance.)