Robert
[Stretches out both hands to her.] Because I had another gift to offer you then—a common simple gift—like myself. If you want to know it I will tell you.
Bertha
[Looking at her watch.] Past is past, Robert. And I think I ought to go now. It is nine almost.
Robert
[Impetuously.] No, no. Not yet. There is one confession more and we have the right to speak.
[He crosses before the table rapidly and sits down beside her.]
Bertha
[Turning towards him, places her left hand on his shoulder.] Yes, Robert. I know that you like me. You need not tell me. [Kindly.] You need not confess any more tonight.
[A gust of wind enters through the porch, with a sound of moving leaves. The lamp flickers quickly.]
Bertha
[Pointing over his shoulder.] Look! It is too high.
[Without rising, he bends towards the table, and turns down the wick more. The room is half dark. The light comes in more strongly through the doorway of the bedroom.]
Robert
The wind is rising. I will close that door.
Bertha
[Listening.] No, it is raining still. It was only a gust of wind.
