BERTHA.
[Quietly.] You are, Dick.
RICHARD.
I am not. Jealous of what?
BERTHA.
Because he kissed me.
RICHARD.
[Looks up.] Is that all?
BERTHA.
Yes, that’s all. Except that he asked me would I meet him.
RICHARD.
Out somewhere?
BERTHA.
No. In his house.
RICHARD.
[Surprised.] Over there with his mother, is it?
BERTHA.
No, a house he has. He wrote the address for me.
[She goes to the desk, takes the key from the flower vase, unlocks the drawer and returns to him with the slip of paper.]