Emma. I knowed it! (She strikes him.) A half white skin. (She rushes at him again. John staggers back and catches her hands.)
John. Emma!
Emma (struggles to free her hands). Let me go so I can kill you. Come sneaking in here like a pole cat!
John (slowly, after a long pause). So this is the woman I’ve been wearing over my heart like a rose for twenty years! She so despises her own skin that she can’t believe any one else could love it!
(Emma writhes to free herself.)
John. Twenty years! Twenty years of adoration, of hunger, of worship! (On the verge of tears he crosses to door and exits quietly, closing the door after him.)
(Emma remains standing, looking dully about as if she is half asleep. There comes a knocking at the door. She rushes to open it. It is the doctor. White. She does not step aside so that he can enter.)
Doctor. Well, shall I come in?
Emma (stepping aside and laughing a little). That’s right, doctor, come in.
(Doctor crosses to bed with professional air. Looks at the girl, feels the pulse and draws up the sheet over the face. He turns to her.)