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?
ANTHONY: (_who has resumed work_) It is not what this place is for.
CLAIRE: No this place is for the destruction that can get through.
ANTHONY: Miss Claire, it is eleven. At eleven we are to go in and see--
CLAIRE: Whether it has gone through. But how can we go--with Dick against the door?
ANTHONY: He'll have to move.
CLAIRE: And be shot?
HARRY: (_irritably_) Oh, he'll not be shot. Claire can spoil anything.
(DICK _steps away from the door_; CLAIRE _takes a step nearer it_.)
CLAIRE: (_halting_) Have I spoiled everything? I don't want to go in there.
ANTHONY: We're going in together, Miss Claire. Don't you remember? Oh (_looking resentfully at the others_) don't let any little thing spoil it for you--the work of all those days--the hope of so many days.
CLAIRE: Yes--that's it.
ANTHONY: You're afraid you haven't done it?
CLAIRE: Yes, but--afraid I have.
HARRY: (_cross, but kindly_) That's just nervousness, Claire. I've had the same feeling myself about making a record in flying.
CLAIRE: (_curiously grateful_) You have, Harry?
HARRY: (_glad enough to be back in a more usual world_) Sure. I've been afraid to know, and almost as afraid of having done it as of not having done it.
(CLAIRE _nods, steps nearer, then again pulls back_.)
CLAIRE: I can't go in there. (_she almost looks at_ TOM) Not today.
ANTHONY: But, Miss Claire, there'll be things to see today we can't see tomorrow.
CLAIRE: You bring it in here!
ANTHONY: In--out from its own place? (_she nods_) And--where they are?
(_again she nods. Reluctantly he goes to the door_) I will not look into the heart. No one must know before you know.
(_In the inner room, his head a little turned away, he is seen very carefully to lift the plant which glows from within. As he brings it in, no one looks at it_. HARRY _takes a box of seedlings from a stand and puts them on the floor, that the newcomer may have a place_.)
ANTHONY: Breath of Life is here, Miss Claire.
(CLAIRE _half turns, then stops._)
CLAIRE: Look--and see--what you see.
ANTHONY: No one should see what you've not seen.
CLAIRE: I can't see--until I know.
(ANTHONY _looks into the flower._)
ANTHONY: (_agitated_) Miss Claire!
CLAIRE: It has come through?
ANTHONY: It has gone on.
CLAIRE: Stronger?
ANTHONY: Stronger, surer.
CLAIRE: And more fragile?
ANTHONY: And more fragile.
CLAIRE: Look deep. No--turning back?
ANTHONY: (_after a searching look_) The form is set. (_he steps back from it_)
CLAIRE: Then it is--out. (_from where she stands she turns slowly to the plant_) You weren't. You are.