You ran after him up the stairs because your vanity wouldn’t let you lose him. It isn’t that you love him—that would be easier—you never love anyone, you only love them loving you—all your so-called passion and temperament is false—your whole existence had degenerated into an endless empty craving for admiration and flattery—and then you say you’ve done no harm to anybody. Father used to be a clever man, with a strong will and a capacity for enjoying everything—I can remember him like that—and now he’s nothing—a complete nonentity because his spirit’s crushed. How could it be otherwise? You’ve let him down consistently for years—and God knows I’m nothing for him to look forward to—but I might have been if it hadn’t been for you——
Florence
Don’t talk like that. Don’t—don’t. It can’t be such a crime being loved—it can’t be such a crime being happy——
Nicky
You’re not happy—you’re never happy—you’re fighting—fighting all the time to keep your youth and your looks—because you can’t bear the thought of living without them—as though they mattered in the end.
Florence
[Hysterically]
What does anything matter—ever?
Nicky