AMY. And forget. That seems simple enough, doesn't it? TREBELL. If you don't want the child let it be mine ... not yours. AMY. [_Wondering suddenly at this bond between them._] Yours! What would you do with it? TREBELL. [_Matter-of-fact._] Provide for it, of course. AMY. Never see it, perhaps. TREBELL. Perhaps not. If there were anything to be gained ... for the child. I'll see that he has his chance as a human being. AMY. How hopeful! [_Now her voice drops. She is looking back, perhaps at a past self._] If you loved me ... perhaps I might learn to love the thought of your child. TREBELL. [_As if half his life depended on her answer._] Is that true? AMY. [_Irritably._] Why are you picking me to pieces? I think that is true. If you had been loving me for a long, long time--[_The agony rushes back on her._] But now I'm only afraid. You might have some pity for me ... I'm so afraid. TREBELL. [_Touched._] Indeed ... indeed, I'll take what share of this I can. _She shrinks from him unforgivingly._ AMY. No, let me alone. I'm nothing to you. I'm a sick beast in danger of my life, that's all ... cancerous! _He is roused for the first time, roused to horror and protest._ TREBELL. Oh, you unhappy woman! ... if life is like death to you.... AMY. [_Turning on him._] Don't lecture me! If you're so clever put a stop to this horror. Or you might at least say you're sorry. TREBELL. Sorry! [_The bell on the table rings jarringly._] Cantelupe! _He goes to the telephone. She gets up cold and collected, steadied merely by the unexpected sound._ AMY. I mustn't keep you from governing the country. I'm sure you'll do it very well. TREBELL. [_At the telephone._] Yes, bring him up, of course ... isn't Mr. Kent there? [_then to her._] I may be ten minutes with him or half an hour. Wait and we'll come to a conclusion. KENT _comes in, an open letter in his hand._ KENT. This note, sir. Had I better go round myself and see him? TREBELL. [_As he takes the note._] Cantelupe's come. KENT. [_Glancing at the telephone._] Oh, has he! TREBELL. [_As he reads._] Yes I think you had. KENT. Evans was very serious. _He goes back into his room._ AMY _moves swiftly to where_ TREBELL _is standing and whispers._ AMY. Won't you tell me whom to go to? TREBELL. No. AMY. Oh, really ... what unpractical sentimental children you men are! You and your consciences ... you and your laws. You drive us to distraction and sometimes to death by your stupidities. Poor women--!