JOHNNY. Stick to it. Put it in your hair; it'll look jolly. How do you like it here?
FAITH. It's quiet.
JOHNNY. Ha! I wonder if you've got the feeling I have. We've both had hell, you know; I had three years of it, out there, and you've had three years of it here. The feeling that you can't catch up; can't live fast enough to get even.
FAITH nods.
Nothing's big enough; nothing's worth while enough—is it?
FAITH. I don't know. I know I'd like to bite. She draws her lips back.
JOHNNY. Ah! Tell me all about your beastly time; it'll do you good. You and I are different from anybody else in this house. We've lived they've just vegetated. Come on; tell me!
FAITH, who up to now has looked on him as a young male, stares at him for the first time without sex in her eyes.
FAITH. I can't. We didn't talk in there, you know.
JOHNNY. Were you fond of the chap who—?