RICHARD.
[Quietly, looking at him.] Have I said that I hate you?
ROBERT.
Do you not? You must.
RICHARD.
Even if Bertha had not told me I should have known. Did you not see that when I came in this afternoon I went into my study suddenly for a moment?
ROBERT.
You did. I remember.
RICHARD.
To give you time to recover yourself. It made me sad to see your eyes. And the roses too. I cannot say why. A great mass of overblown roses.
ROBERT.
I thought I had to give them. Was that strange? [Looks at Richard with a tortured expression.] Too many, perhaps? Or too old or common?
RICHARD.
That was why I did not hate you. The whole thing made me sad all at once.
ROBERT.
[To himself.] And this is real. It is happening—to us.
[He stares before him for some moments in silence, as if dazed; then, without turning his head, continues.]
ROBERT.
And she, too, was trying me; making an experiment with me for your sake!