HARRY: Chance for what? I call you, Claire. I ask you to say what you
mean.

CLAIRE: I don't know--precisely. If I did--there'd be no use saying it.
(_at_ HARRY's _impatient exclamation she turns to_ TOM)

TOM: (_nodding_) The only thing left worth saying is the thing we can't
say.

HARRY: Help!

CLAIRE: Yes. But the war didn't help. Oh, it was a stunning chance! But
fast as we could--scuttled right back to the trim little thing we'd been
shocked out of.

HARRY: You bet we did--showing our good sense.

CLAIRE: Showing our incapacity--for madness.

HARRY: Oh, come now, Claire--snap out of it. You're not really trying to
say that capacity for madness is a good thing to have?

CLAIRE: (_in simple surprise_) Why yes, of course.

DICK: But I should say the war did leave enough madness to give you a
gleam of hope.

CLAIRE: Not the madness that--breaks through. And it was--a stunning
chance! Mankind massed to kill. We have failed. We are through. We will
destroy. Break this up--it can't go farther. In the air above--in the