ROBERT.
More than I?
BERTHA.
More than you? [Reflecting.] How could I answer that? You both are, I suppose?
[Robert turns aside and gazes towards the porch, passing his hand once or twice thoughtfully over his hair.]
BERTHA.
[Gently.] Are you angry with me again?
ROBERT.
[Moodily.] You are with me.
BERTHA.
No, Robert. Why should I be?
ROBERT.
Because I asked you to come to this place. I tried to prepare it for you. [He points vaguely here and there.] A sense of quietness.
BERTHA.
[Touching his jacket with her fingers.] And this, too. Your nice velvet coat.
ROBERT.
Also. I will keep no secrets from you.
BERTHA.
You remind me of someone in a picture. I like you in it... But you are not angry, are you?