MAN: Who says?

WOMAN: The newspapers.

MAN: How the hell do they know!

WOMAN: They’ve got statistics.

MAN: My God, they’ve statistics for everything, haven’t they! [He turns a page.]

WOMAN: That’s rather often don’t you think? For people to be killing themselves?

MAN: No. Not often enough really when you think of the number and kinds of people there are.

WOMAN [turning away]: You’re such a cynic, George.

MAN [lightly]: Oh, no, just a realist.

WOMAN: Call it what you wish, I think you’re a very cold-blooded proposition.

MAN: I belong to a cold-blooded generation. The generation of fish. We sink or swim and nobody gives a damn which. [He takes another drink.]

WOMAN: Thank God I was born with a set of decent emotions!

MAN: Emotions are troublesome things.

WOMAN: Without them life is just a set of a automatic reflexes.

MAN: What’s wrong with that? Damned convenient I think! Saves one a lot of needless stewing. Have a drink?

WOMAN: No, thank you. I’ve had my quota tonight.

MAN: I can’t say they’ve done you much good.

WOMAN: I’m still conscious, if that’s what you mean.

MAN: Yes. That’s what I mean. [He turns the radio on.]

WOMAN [clasping her head]: Please leave it off!

MAN: Why?

WOMAN: I’ve got a headache.

MAN: Take an aspirin.

WOMAN: It isn’t that kind of a headache. [She sinks onto the couch.]

MAN: What kind is it, then?

WOMAN: The kind that goes on and on and never stops.

MAN: May I suggest a remedy?

WOMAN: Yes, if you only would.

MAN: You’ll find my revolver in the left-hand drawer of the chifferobe. Results guaranteed.

WOMAN: Perhaps I will surprise you by using it some day.

MAN: Nothing would surprise me. [He drinks again.]

WOMAN: No. I guess nothing would. Are you really alive?

MAN: I think so.

WOMAN: But you’re not absolutely sure of it?

MAN: One can’t be sure of anything these days.

WOMAN: Do you have sensations?

MAN: Yes.

WOMAN: Likes and dislikes?

MAN: Yes.

WOMAN: What do you like, George?

MAN: Hmm. The faint spicy fragrance of a carnation, good whiskey, and—

WOMAN: And being untrue to your wife!

MAN [giving her a quick, cold glance]: Yes, that most of all.

WOMAN: You’re admirably frank about it.

MAN: Why shouldn’t I be?

WOMAN: You might wish to spare my feelings.

MAN: Your feelings are yours, not mine.

WOMAN: You loved me once.

MAN: Did I?

WOMAN: Yes. Once.

MAN: How do you know?

WOMAN: You told me that you did.

MAN: Perhaps I was lying.

WOMAN [violently]: If you were you ought to be hanged for it!

MAN: Why?

WOMAN: Because I believed you!

MAN: You were much too credulous in your younger days.

WOMAN: I guess I never belonged to this generation of fish, which you’re so proud of representing!

MAN: No, my dear. You’re a hopeless anachronism.

WOMAN: I thank God for that if it means having red blood in my veins!

MAN: Do you?