Iris. Then why do you say you are tired of women?
Felix. Oh, Iris, every one disparages the thing that he loves best.
Iris. Do you mean dark women? You love Clytie—the cat.
Felix. No—dreams, eternal dreams.
Iris. You have such passionate eyes, Felix. You’re awfully clever. What are you thinking about now?
Felix. About you. Woman is a riddle.
Iris. Guess it then. But not too roughly, please.
Felix. I cannot see into the depths of your eyes.
Iris. (Crossly) Oh, then look somewhere else.
Felix. Iris, I—