ROBERT.
[With resignation.] Passed. Yes. Love’s labour lost.
BERTHA.
[Looks up at him.] Listen, Robert. I want to explain to you about that. I could not deceive Dick. Never. In nothing. I told him everything—from the first. Then it went on and on; and still you never spoke or asked me. I wanted you to.
ROBERT.
Is that the truth, Bertha?
BERTHA.
Yes, because it annoyed me that you could think I was like... like the other women I suppose you knew that way. I think that Dick is right too. Why should there be secrets?
ROBERT.
[Softly.] Still, secrets can be very sweet. Can they not?
BERTHA.
[Smiles.] Yes, I know they can. But, you see, I could not keep things secret from Dick. Besides, what is the good? They always come out in the end. Is it not better for people to know?
ROBERT.
[Softly and a little shyly.] How could you, Bertha, tell him everything? Did you? Every single thing that passed between us?
BERTHA.
Yes. Everything he asked me.
ROBERT.
Did he ask you—much?
BERTHA.
You know the kind he is. He asks about everything. The ins and outs.