CLAIRE: (_over the flower_) Breath of Life--you here? Are you lonely--Breath of Life?
TOM: Claire--hear me! Don't go where we can't go. As there you made a shell for life within, make for yourself a life in which to live. It must be so.
CLAIRE: As you made for yourself a shell called beauty?
TOM: What is there for you, if you'll have no touch with what we have?
CLAIRE: What is there? There are the dreams we haven't dreamed. There is the long and flowing pattern, (_she follows that, but suddenly and as if blindly goes to him_) I am tired. I am lonely. I'm afraid, (_he holds her, soothing. But she steps back from him_) And because we are tired--lonely--and afraid, we stop with you. Don't get through--to what you're in the way of.
TOM: Then you don't love me?
CLAIRE: I'm fighting for my chance. I don't know--which chance.
(_Is drawn to the other chance, to Breath of Life. Looks into it as if to look through to the uncaptured. And through this life just caught comes the truth she chants._)
I've wallowed at a coarse man's feet, I'm sprayed with dreams we've not yet come to.
I've gone so low that words can't get there, I've never pulled the mantle of my fears around me And called it loneliness--And called it God.
Only with life that waits have I kept faith.
(_with effort raising her eyes to the man_)
And only you have ever threatened me.
TOM: (_coming to her, and with strength now_) And I will threaten you.
I'm here to hold you from where I know you cannot go. You're trying what we can't do.
CLAIRE: What else is there worth trying?
TOM: I love you, and I will keep you--from fartherness--from harm. You are mine, and you will stay with me! (_roughly_) You hear me? You will stay with me!
CLAIRE: (_her head on his breast, in ecstasy of rest. Drowsily_) You can keep me?
TOM: Darling! I can keep you. I will keep you--safe.
CLAIRE: (_troubled by the word, but barely able to raise her head_) Safe?
TOM: (_bringing her to rest again_) Trust me, Claire.
CLAIRE: (_not lifting her head, but turning it so she sees Breath of Life_) Now can I trust--what is? (_suddenly pushing him roughly away_) No! I will beat my life to pieces in the struggle to--
TOM: To _what_, Claire?
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.
ANTHONY: I did it. Don't you see? I didn't want so many around.
Not--what this place is for.
HARRY: (_snatching at this but lets it go_) She wouldn't let--(_looking up at_ CLAIRE--_then quickly hiding his face_) And--don't you see?
CLAIRE: Out. (_a little like a child's pleased surprise_) Out.
(DICK _stands there, as if unable to get to the door--his face distorted, biting his hand_.)
ANTHONY: Miss Claire! You can do anything--won't you try?