Faith. It's no use being angry and beastly about it. One must use a little common sense.
Bobbie. It isn't a question of common sense, but common decency.
Faith. How dare you say that. (She pulls him round by the leg of his trousers. He brushes her hand away. She repeats this business.) Why can't we just be friends?
Bobbie. You know I'm much too fond of you to be just friends. Men can't switch their feelings on and off like bath-taps. If they mean a thing they mean it, and there's an end of it.
Faith. I wish I'd never come down at all if all you mean to do is grumble at me.
Bobbie. It's more than grumbling—it's genuine unhappiness. (Sits on form below table.) I quite realize now that you never really cared for me a bit, in spite of what you said; but still I want to find out why—why you've changed so suddenly, why need you have hurt me so much. If you'd written breaking it off, it would have been different, but you've been so—so unnecessarily brutal.
Faith. It was mother's fault.
Bobbie. Is everything you do your mother's affair? Does she count every breath you take? Why, your life simply can't be worth living!
Faith. I wish I could make you see....
Bobbie (in a lower register). I'm afraid you've made me see too much. I didn't know people could be so callous and cruel....