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Amory: (In despair) Rosalind! Rosalind!

Rosalind: (With a faint roguishness) Don’t look so consciously suffering.

Amory: What power we have of hurting each other!

Rosalind: (Commencing to sob again) It’s been so perfect—you and I. So like a dream that I’d longed for and never thought I’d find. The first real unselfishness I’ve ever felt in my life. And I can’t see it fade out in a colorless atmosphere!

Amory: It won’t—it won’t!

Rosalind: I’d rather keep it as a beautiful memory—tucked away in my heart.

Amory: Yes, women can do that—but not men. I’d remember always, not the beauty of it while it lasted, but just the bitterness, the long bitterness.

Rosalind: Don’t!

Amory: All the years never to see you, never to kiss you, just a gate shut and barred—you don’t dare be my wife.

Rosalind: No—no—I’m taking the hardest course, the strongest course. Marrying you would be a failure and I never fail—if you don’t stop walking up and down I’ll scream!

(Again he sinks despairingly onto the lounge.)