that I was never tired or sleepy any more . . . my whole attitude had changed . . . but I didn't tell you. . . . I still pretended to be guarding you . . . only because I had your interest at heart . . . while all the time it was because I loved you. . . . And now . . . you can send me away, if you like.
Paula—Mr. Juhasz . . . I don't know . . . I really don't know what to say.
Juhasz—You never guessed it.
Paula—I would never have believed it, if you hadn't
Juhasz—I didn't mean to tell you. But when you said I had no right . . . it slipped out. . . . I might have gone on pretending. . . . I don't know. . . . But now I can ask you again . . . to come with me . . . if you will . . . as my wife. [A pause.] Won't you answer me?
Paula—I have been pretending, too, Mr. Juhasz.
Juhasz—You?
Paula—I let you think I came here . . . out of loyalty to you. But I didn't. I came because I wanted to come . . . because I am bad and depraved. And that is why I want to stay. . . . I am sick of poverty, Mr. Juhasz. . . . I don't want to go back to work in a dingy little office . . . of a dingy little shop. . . . I am young, Mr. Juhasz, and pretty. . . . I want to do the things that make living worth while . . . meet interesting people . . .
