WANDA. No, no! Don't look like that!
LARRY. You're shivering.
WANDA. I will make up the fire. Love me, Larry! I want to forget.
LARRY. The poorest little wretch on God's earth—locked up—for me! A little wild animal, locked up. There he goes, up and down, up and down—in his cage—don't you see him?—looking for a place to gnaw his way through—little grey rat. [He gets up and roams about.]
WANDA. No, no! I can't bear it! Don't frighten me more!
[He comes back and takes her in his arms.]
LARRY. There, there! [He kisses her closed eyes.]
WANDA. [Without moving] If we could sleep a little—wouldn't it be nice?
LARRY. Sleep?
WANDA. [Raising herself] Promise to stay with me—to stay here for good, Larry. I will cook for you; I will make you so comfortable. They will find him innocent. And then—Oh, Larry! in the sun-right away—far from this horrible country. How lovely! [Trying to get him to look at her] Larry!