because this little shop has gone under? No, my dear Philip, I shan't let his excellency get away from me that easily.
Philip—You won't let him
Paula—I'm going to follow him to Gerelypuszta. The rest will be easy.
Philip—And what will you tell your mother?
Paula—That Mr. Juhasz is taking me. She'll let me go with him.
Philip—And what will you tell Mr. Juhasz?
Paula—That I can't leave him alone in all this trouble . . . that I can't part from him.
Philip—Deceive him? You too? You'd take advantage of him too?
Paula—Yes.
Philip—You'd use him for a purpose like that?
Paula—I'm sick of poverty, Mr. Philip. . . . If you knew how sick I am of being poor!
Philip—It's monstrous!
Paula—Can I help it?. . . I tell you I won't grow old over a typewriting machine. I won't let myself decay in this dingy office.
Philip—But Mr. Juhasz
Paula—I'm not considering anyone except myself. I need Mr. Juhasz now, and, no matter what you say, I mean to use him.
Philip—[Scrutinizing her narrowly.] This isn't wickedness. It's only childish egotism.
