"Well?"
"What did you expect me to do? Endure forever in silence?"
"What did you do? Or what do you mean to do?"
"I have come to care for a woman who understands me——"
"A woman, Jarvis?"
"The woman who wrote 'Francesca.' I cared first because she had put into her heroine so many things that were like you."
"Well?" she said again.
"She has come to care for me. I wanted to tell you so long ago, when we first knew, but she begged me not to until after the play was tried out. But I can't stand it another minute. There must be truth between us, Bambi. I want you to read her letters. I want you to try to understand how this has crept into my heart."
"You wish to be free—to go to her?"
"There is no happiness for us, is there?"