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Rita.
[With sarcasm.] Yes, isn't it curious that we should grieve like this over a little stranger boy?
Allmers.
[With an outburst.] Oh, don't call him a stranger!
Rita.
[Sadly shaking her head.] We never won the boy, Alfred. Not I—nor you either.
Allmers.
[Wringing his hands.] And now it is too late! Too late!
Rita.
And no consolation anywhere—in anything.
Allmers.
[With sudden passion.] You are the guilty one in this!
Rita.
[Rising.] I!
Allmers.
Yes, you! It was your fault that he became—what he was! It was your fault that he could not save himself when he fell into the water.
Rita.
[With a gesture of repulsion.] Alfred—you shall not throw the blame upon me!
