Johnny.  You never believed they were going to hang you, did you?

Faith.  I didn’t care if they did—­not then.

Johnny. [With a reflective grunt] You had a much worse time than I. You were lonely—­

Faith.  Have you been in a prison, ever?

Johnny.  No, thank God!

Faith.  It’s awfully clean.

Johnny.  You bet.

Faith.  And it’s stone cold.  It turns your heart.

Johnny.  Ah!  Did you ever see a stalactite?

Faith.  What’s that?

Johnny.  In caves.  The water drops like tears, and each drop has some sort of salt, and leaves it behind till there’s just a long salt petrified drip hanging from the roof.

Faith.  Ah! [Staring at him] I used to stand behind my door.  I’d stand there sometimes I don’t know how long.  I’d listen and listen—­the noises are all hollow in a prison.  You’d think you’d get used to being shut up, but I never did.

     Johnny utters a deep grunt.

It’s awful the feeling you get here-so tight and chokey.  People who are free don’t know what it’s like to be shut up.  If I’d had a proper window even—­When you can see things living, it makes you feel alive.

Johnny. [Catching her arm] We’ll make you feel alive again.

     Faith stares at him; sex comes back to her eyes.  She looks down.

I bet you used to enjoy life, before.

Faith. [Clasping her hands] Oh! yes, I did.  And I love getting out now.  I’ve got a fr—­ [She checks herself] The streets are beautiful, aren’t they?  Do you know Orleens Street?

Johnny. [Doubtful] No-o. . . .  Where?

Faith.  At the corner out of the Regent.  That’s where we had our shop.  I liked the hair-dressing.  We had fun.  Perhaps I’ve seen you before.  Did you ever come in there?

Johnny.  No.

Faith.  I’d go back there; only they wouldn’t take me—­I’m too conspicuous now.

Johnny.  I expect you’re well out of that.

Faith. [With a sigh] But I did like it.  I felt free.  We had an hour off in the middle of the day; you could go where you liked; and then, after hours—­I love the streets at night—­all lighted.  Olga—­that’s one of the other girls—­and I used to walk about for hours.  That’s life!  Fancy!  I never saw a street for more than two years.  Didn’t you miss them in the war?

Johnny.  I missed grass and trees more—­the trees!  All burnt, and splintered.  Gah!

Faith.  Yes, I like trees too; anything beautiful, you know.  I think the parks are lovely—­but they might let you pick the flowers.  But the lights are best, really—­they make you feel happy.  And music—­I love an organ.  There was one used to come and play outside the prison—­before I was tried.  It sounded so far away and lovely.  If I could ’ave met the man that played that organ, I’d have kissed him.  D’you think he did it on purpose?