Arthur.
Nothing. I'm tired. I had a busy day and now the dance. [The sound of a waltz is heard.] Oh, damn that music!
Anne.
Sit down and rest yourself. Why don't you have a smoke! [Putting her hand on his arm.] My dear friend.
Arthur.
For God's sake don't pity me.
Anne.
Won't you talk to me frankly? I may be able to help you. In the old days you used to bring your troubles to me, Arthur.
Arthur.
I tell you I'm only tired. What is the use of talking about what can't be helped?