CLAIRE: Not to stop it by seeming to have it. (_with fury_) I will keep my life low--low--that I may never stop myself--or anyone--with the thought it's what _I_ have. I'd rather be the steam rising from the manure than be a thing called beautiful! (_with sight too clear_) Now I know who you are. It is you puts out the breath of life. Image of beauty--_You fill the place--should be a gate._ (_in agony_) Oh, that it is _you_--fill the place--should be a gate! My darling! That it should be you who--(_her hands moving on him_) Let me tell you something. Never was loving strong as my loving of you! Do you know that? Oh, know that! Know it now! (_her arms go around his neck_) Hours with you--I'd give my life to have! That it should be you--(_he would loosen her hands, for he cannot breathe. But when she knows she is choking him, that knowledge is fire burning its way into the last passion_) It _is_ you. It is you. TOM: (_words coming from a throat not free_) Claire! What are you doing? (_then she knows what she is doing_) CLAIRE: (_to his resistance_) No! You are _too much_! You are _not enough_. (_still wanting not to hurt her, he is slow in getting free. He keeps stepping backward trying, in growing earnest, to loosen her hands. But he does not loosen them before she has found the place in his throat that cuts off breath. As he gasps_) Breath of Life--my gift--to you! (_She has pushed him against one of the plants at right as he sways, strength she never had before pushes him over backward, just as they have struggled from sight. Violent crash of glass is heard._) TOM: (_faint smothered voice_) _No_. I'm--hurt. CLAIRE: (_in the frenzy and agony of killing_) Oh, gift! Oh, gift! (_there is no sound._ CLAIRE _rises--steps back--is seen now; is looking down_) Gift. (_Like one who does not know where she is, she moves into the room--looks around. Takes a step toward Breath of Life; turns and goes quickly to the door. Stops, as if stopped. Sees the revolver where the Edge Vine was. Slowly goes to it. Holds it as if she cannot think what it is for. Then raises it high and fires above through the place in the glass left open for ventilation_. ANTHONY _comes from the inner room. His eyes go from her to the body beyond_. HARRY _rushes in from outside_.) HARRY: Who fired that? CLAIRE: I did. Lonely. (_Seeing_ ANTHONY'S _look_, HARRY _'s eyes follow it_.) HARRY: Oh! What? What? (DICK _comes running in_) Who? Claire! (DICK _sees--goes to_ TOM) CLAIRE: Yes. I did it. MY--Gift. HARRY: Is he--? He isn't--? He isn't--? (_Tries to go in there. Cannot--there is the sound of broken glass, of a position being changed--then_ DICK _reappears_.) DICK: (_his voice in jerks_) It's--it's no use, but I'll go for a doctor. HARRY: No--no. Oh, I suppose--(_falling down beside_ CLAIRE--_his face against her_) My darling! How can I save you now? CLAIRE: (_speaking each word very carefully_) Saved--myself.