do. Why, Mr Archer, look at Miss
Claire herself. Hasn't she given her heat to the roses?

HARRY: (_pulling the rug around him, preparing for the blizzard_) She
has the fire within.

ANTHONY: (_delighted_) Now isn't that true! How well you said it. (_with
a glare for this appreciation_, HARRY _opens the door. It blows away
from him_) Please do close the door!

HARRY: (_furiously_) You think it is the aim of my life to hold it open?

ANTHONY: (_getting hold of it_) Growing things need an even temperature,
(_while saying this he gets the man out into the snow_)

(ANTHONY _consults the thermometer, not as pleased this time as he was
before. He then looks minutely at two of the plants--one is a rose, the
other a flower without a name because it has not long enough been a
flower. Peers into the hearts of them. Then from a drawer under a shelf,
takes two paper bags, puts one over each of these flowers, closing them
down at the bottom. Again the door blows wildly in, also_ HATTIE, _a
maid with a basket_.)

ANTHONY: What do you mean--blowing in here like this? Mrs Archer has
ordered--

HATTIE: Mr Archer has ordered breakfast served here, (_she uncovers the
basket and takes out an electric toaster_)

ANTHONY: _Breakfast_--here? _Eat_--here? Where plants grow?

HATTIE: The plants won't poison him, will they? (_at a loss to know what
to do with things, she puts the toaster under the strange vine at the
back, whose leaves lift up against the glass which has frost leaves on
the outer side_)

ANTHONY: (_snatching it away_) You--you think you can cook eggs under
the Edge Vine?

HATTIE: I guess Mr Archer's eggs are as important as a vine. I guess my
work's as important as yours.

ANTHONY: There's a million people like you--and like Mr Archer. In all
the world there is only one Edge Vine.

HATTIE: Well, maybe one's enough. It don't look like nothin', anyhow.

ANTHONY: And you've not got the wit to know that that's why it's the
Edge Vine.

HATTIE: You want to look out, Anthony. You talk nutty. Everybody says
so.

ANTHONY: Miss Claire don't say so.

HATTIE: No, because she's--

ANTHONY: You talk too much!

(_Door opens, admitting_ HARRY; _after looking around for the best place
to eat breakfast, moves a box of earth from the table_.)

HARRY: Just give me a hand, will you, Hattie?

(_They bring it to the open space and he and_ HATTIE _arrange breakfast
things_, HATTIE _with triumphant glances at the distressed_ A