HARRY:  Anthony, this is pretty clever of you—­but—­

ANTHONY:  I’m not clever.  But I know how easy it is to turn life back.  No, I’m not clever at all (CLAIRE has appeared and is looking in from outside), but I do know—­there are things you mustn’t hurt, (he sees her) Yes, here’s Miss Claire.

(She comes in.  She is looking immaculate.)

CLAIRE:  From the gutter I rise again, refreshed.  One does, you know.  Nothing is fixed—­not even the gutter, (smilingly to HARRY and refusing to notice revolver or agitation) How did you like the way I entertained the nerve specialist?

HARRY:  Claire!  You can joke about it?

CLAIRE:  (taking the revolver from the hand she has shocked to limpness) Whom are you trying to make hear?

HARRY:  I’m trying to make the world hear that (pointing) there stands a dirty dog who—­

CLAIRE:  Listen, Harry, (turning to HATTIE, who is over by the tall plants at right, not wanting to be shot but not wanting to miss the conversation) You can do my room now, Hattie. (HATTIE goes) If you’re thinking of shooting Dick, you can’t shoot him while he’s backed up against that door.

ANTHONY:  Just what I told them, Miss Claire.  Just what I told them.

CLAIRE:  And for that matter, it’s quite dull of you to have any idea of shooting him.

HARRY:  I may be dull—­I know you think I am—­but I’ll show you that I’ve enough of the man in me to—­

CLAIRE:  To make yourself ridiculous?  If I ran out and hid my head in the mud, would you think you had to shoot the mud?

DICK:  (stung out of fear) That’s pretty cruel!

CLAIRE:  Well, would you rather be shot?

HARRY:  So you just said it to protect him!

CLAIRE:  I change it to grass, (nodding to DICK) Grass.  If I hid my face in the grass, would you have to burn the grass?

HARRY:  Oh, Claire, how can you?  When you know how I love you—­and how
I’m suffering?

CLAIRE:  (with interest) Are you suffering?

HARRY:  Haven’t you eyes?

CLAIRE:  I should think it would—­do something to you.

HARRY:  God!  Have you no heart? (the door opens. TOM comes in)

CLAIRE:  (scarcely saying it) Yes, I have a heart.

TOM:  (after a pause) I came to say good-bye.

CLAIRE:  God!  Have you no heart?  Can’t you at least wait till Dick is shot?

TOM:  Claire! (now sees the revolver in her hand that is turned from him.  Going to her) Claire!