(_with her hands begins
scooping upon him the soil_ ANTHONY _has prepared_)
HARRY: (_jumping up, laughing, pinning down her arms, putting his arms
around her_) Claire--be decent. What harm do I do here?
CLAIRE: You pull down the temperature.
HARRY: Not after I'm in.
CLAIRE: And you told Tom and Dick to come and make it uneven.
HARRY: Tom and Dick are our guests. We can't eat where it's warm and
leave them to eat where it's cold.
CLAIRE: I don't see why not.
HARRY: You only see what you want to see.
CLAIRE: That's not true. I wish it were. No; no, I don't either. (_she
is disturbed--that troubled thing which rises from within, from deep,
and takes_ CLAIRE. _She turns to the Edge Vine, examines. Regretfully
to_ ANTHONY, _who has come in with a plant_) It's turning back, isn't
it?
ANTHONY: Can you be sure yet, Miss Claire?
CLAIRE: Oh yes--it's had its chance. It doesn't want to be--what hasn't
been.
HARRY: (_who has turned at this note in her voice. Speaks kindly_) Don't
take it so seriously, Claire. (CLAIRE _laughs_)
CLAIRE: No, I suppose not. But it _does_ matter--and why should I
pretend it doesn't, just because I've failed with it?
HARRY: Well, I don't want to see it get you--it's not important enough
for that.
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