ROBERT.
[Looks at Richard.] Did you hear his voice, too, Richard, with the others—out there on the strand? Your son’s voice. [Smiling.] Listen! How full it is of despair!
ARCHIE.
Open the window, please, will you?
ROBERT.
Perhaps, there, Richard, is the freedom we seek—you in one way, I in another. In him and not in us. Perhaps...
RICHARD.
Perhaps...?
ROBERT.
I said perhaps. I would say almost surely if...
RICHARD.
If what?
ROBERT.
[With a faint smile.] If he were mine.
[He goes to the window and opens it. Archie scrambles in.]
ROBERT.
Like yesterday—eh?
ARCHIE.
Good morning, Mr Hand. [He runs to Richard and kisses him:] Buon giorno, babbo.