Brodie. Help? help me? You would not speak of it, not wish it, if you knew. My kind good sister, my little playmate, my sweet friend! was I ever unkind to you till yesterday? Not openly unkind? you’ll say that when I am gone.
Mary. If you have done wrong, what do I care? If you have failed, does it change my twenty years of love and worship? Never!
Brodie. Yet I must make her understand . . . !
Mary. I am your true sister, dear. I cannot fail, I will never leave you, I will never blame you. Come! (Goes to embrace.)
Brodie (recoiling). No, don’t touch me, not a finger, not that, anything but that!
Mary. Willie, Willie!
Brodie (taking the bloody dagger from the table). See, do you understand that?
Mary. Ah! What, what is it!
Brodie. Blood. I have killed a man.
Mary. You? . . .