. . . Paula . . . for all . . . all that I suffered to-*day. . . . God is good to me, after all.
Paula—[Low, ashamed.] I am devoted to you, Mr. Juhasz. You know that. . . . Will you excuse me now? I must go, or mother will be worried about me. [Starts to go.] Besides, I think Mr. Philip has something to tell you. [She exits through the archway.]
Juhasz—[Deeply touched.] What a heart she has!. . . That is the stuff that saints and martyrs are made of. . . . And to think that here [with an emotional break in his voice]—here in this dim little shop . . . such loyalty . . . such devotion should have blossomed . . . unknown. . . . [Dries his eyes.] It's good to know there are such people in the world! [Philip, in surly silence, picks up his hat and stick, pulls on his gloves.] Is there something you wanted to say to me, Philip?
Philip—Hm. . . . Do you know that. . . . [Stops.]
Juhasz—Well?
Philip—Well, you know . . . er. . . .
Juhasz—Don't play the cynic with me, you old hypocrite . . . you. . . . I know what you are hiding under those gruff, silent ways of yours.
Philip—No . . . that's not it.
Juhasz—Now don't pretend to me. . . . I know
