RICHARD.
Have you thought over what I told you when you were here last?
BEATRICE.
Very much.
RICHARD.
You must have known it before. Did you? [She does not answer.] Do you blame me?
BEATRICE.
No.
RICHARD.
Do you think I have acted towards you—badly? No? Or towards anyone?
BEATRICE.
[Looks at him with a sad puzzled expression.] I have asked myself that question.
RICHARD.
And the answer?
BEATRICE.
I could not answer it.
RICHARD.
If I were a painter and told you I had a book of sketches of you you would not think it so strange, would you?
BEATRICE.
It is not quite the same case, is it?