Newland: When you wrote me, you were unhappy.
Ellen: Yes, but I can't feel unhappy when you're here.
Newland: I shan't be here long.
Ellen: I know.
Newland: Ellen, if you really wanted me to come...if I'm really to help you...you must tell me what you're running from. Is he what you're running from? Or what you expected?
Ellen: I didn't know he was here.
Newland: Hello, Beaufort. This way. Madame Olenska was expecting you.
Beaufort: You've certainly led me on a bit of a chase. All this way just to tell you I've found the perfect little house for you. It's not on the market yet, so you must take it at once. Well, Archer. Rusticating?
Voiceover: That night he did not take the customary comfort in his monthly shipment of books from London. The taste of the usual was like cinders in his mouth. There were moments when he felt as if he were being buried alive under his future.
Ellen’s letter: Newland, come late tomorrow. I must explain to you. Ellen.
May: Newland! Has anything happened?
Newland: Yes. I found I had to see you. What is it?
Newland: So tell me what you do all day.
May: Well... There are a few very pleasant people from Philadelphia and Baltimore who are picnicking at the inn. And the Merrys are setting up a lawn tennis court, but nobody here has really heard of the game yet, so... I have my racket course and so does Kate Merry...
Newland: I came here because I thought I could persuade you to break away from all that. To advance our engagement. Don't you understand how much I want to marry you? Why should we dream away another year?
May: I'm not sure I do understand, Newland. Is it because you are not certain of feeling the same way about me?
Newland: What on earth do you mean?
May: Is there someone else?
Newland: Someone else? Between you and me?
May: Let's talk frankly, Newland. I've felt a difference in you, especially since our engagement.
Newland: Since our engagement?
May: If it's untrue, then it won't hurt to talk about. And if it is true, then why shouldn’t we talk about it now? I mean...you might've made a mistake.
Newland: If I'd made some sort of mistake, would I be down here asking you to hurry up our marriage?
May: I don't know. You might. Would be one way to settle the question. In Newport, two years ago, before we were promised, everyone said there was someone else for you. I even saw you with her once, sitting together on a veranda at a dance. When she came into the house, her face looked so sad...I felt sorry for her. Even after, when we were engaged, I could still see how she looked...
Newland: Is that all you've been concerned about? It's long past.
May: Then is there something else?
Newland: No. Of course not.
May: Whatever it may have been, I can't have my happiness made out of a wrong to someone else. If promises were made, or if you feel in some way pledged to this person, even if it means her getting a divorce, then Newland, don't give her up because of me.
Newland: There are no pledges. There are no promises that matter. That's all I've been trying to say. There is no one between us, there is nothing between us, May. Which is precisely my argument for getting married...quickly.