BERTHA.
Not now. Only I dislike to think of it.
ROBERT.
It is merely something brutal, you think? Of little importance?
BERTHA.
It does not trouble me—now.
ROBERT.
[Looking at her over his shoulder.] But there is something that would trouble you very much and that you would not try to forget?
BERTHA.
What?
ROBERT.
[Turning towards her.] If it were not only something brutal with this person or that—for a few moments. If it were something fine and spiritual—with one person only—with one woman. [Smiles.] And perhaps brutal too. It usually comes to that sooner or later. Would you try to forget and forgive that?
BERTHA.
[Toying with her wristlet.] In whom?
ROBERT.
In anyone. In me.
BERTHA.
[Calmly.] You mean in Dick.
ROBERT.
I said in myself. But would you?