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! CLAIRE: And even you think this is so important? (_carelessly raises the revolver, and with her left hand out flat, tells_ TOM _not to touch her_) Harry thinks it important he shoot Dick, and Dick thinks it important not to be shot, and you think I mustn't shoot anybody--even myself--and can't any of you see that none of that is as important as--where revolvers can't reach? (_putting revolver where there is no Edge Vine_) I shall never shoot myself. I'm too interested in destruction to cut it short by shooting. (_after looking from one to the other, laughs. Pointing_) One--two--three. You-love-me. But why do you bring it out here?