Days pass and Tereza and The Wife spend every morning running, training, and playing with the dogs.

Thomas sits in many more chairs and begins to learn the alphabet. The Philosopher writes letters and helps Thomas with his studies. From their window, the two men sometimes catch the women running laps around the house.

One afternoon The Philosopher calls Tereza in for the progress report. Thomas is repeating his letters out loud in the corner.

PHILOSOPHER: But she can’t always be running.

TEREZA: How long have the dogs been left loose like that in the barn?

PHILOSOPHER: Like what?

THOMAS: A B C D

TEREZA: Unattended. It’s good for her to run, dispels the nervous energy.

THOMAS: E F G

PHILOSOPHER: But she can’t spend the rest of her life running with a bunch of wild dogs because she’s nervous.

TEREZA: Who would know how long they’ve been like that.

PHILOSOPHER: The grounds men used to tend them.

TEREZA: What does that mean, “tend” them

THOMAS: J M? J L? K

PHILOSOPHER: Fed them, housed them, whatever it is, there were larger concerns, my wife was ill.

THOMAS: N

TEREZA: There’s been a lot of fighting, one was injured badly and may not survive. There’s a litter on the way, I almost couldn’t get in because of how territorial they’ve become. I don’t want to offend you. But. It’s—

THOMAS: L O P

TEREZA: I’ve never. It’s…very

THOMAS: y? y? Y?

PHILOSOPHER: What are you saying?

THOMAS: Y? y? . . . y . . . ?

TEREZA: YES Y, do that in your head—I’m saying it’s bad. I’ve had to crate them. It’s going to take daily work to retrain them.

PHILOSOPHER: There were larger concerns.

TEREZA: Right. Well, what’s done is done. I’ll have to work with them everyday to get them back on track. She’s very good with them, we practice simple commands, walking—

PHILOSOPHER: She knows how to walk.

TEREZA: Well the dogs don’t.

PHILOSOPHER: Does she ever speak of me?

TEREZA: She hardly speaks at all.

PHILOSOPHER: We shall teach her to ride.

TEREZA: I don’t know anything about horses.

PHILOSOPHER: Let’s put her back in her rooms.

TEREZA: I don’t think she’s ready for that at all.

PHILOSOPHER: I’d prefer she not sleep in a pit.

TEREZA: She knows her bed of straw, it smells a certain way.

PHILOSOPHER: It smells awful.

TEREZA: It’s just good for her to sleep alone.

PHILOSOPHER: She does sleep alone.

TEREZA: Because she can get very . . . anxious.

PHILOSOPHER: As you keep saying.

TEREZA: Ok, it’s just, it would—be—uh—really, uh, bad for her to get pregnant now—I just need to know you understand that—I’m sorry.

PHILOSOPHER: Considering you’re the only person whose neck she doesn’t try to rip to shreds, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.

TEREZA: I just worry she might . . . approach you—which is fine, as long as you know, that I think she should not be preg—

PHILOSOPHER: YES I get it.

Awkward silence because well . . . everybody gets it.

Thomas is excelling in his studies. He’s a very good student.

THOMAS: Thank you sir.

PHILOSOPHER: With some basic learning you could make something of yourself.

TEREZA: You really shouldn’t bother yourself.

PHILOSOPHER: It’s just the alphabet. You know the alphabet.

TEREZA: But I learnt from a priest.

PHILOSOPHER: I can assure you the letters are the same.

TEREZA: We’re not atheists.

PHILOSOPHER: So what are you?

TEREZA: I’d rather not discuss our faith.

PHILOSOPHER: This isn’t the South Tereza, I’m not gonna burn you at the stake depending how you answer.

TEREZA: I appreciate that. We’re still not atheists.

Tereza exits.

The Philosopher turns to Thomas.

PHILOSOPHER: Tereza’s a bit . . .

He makes a sound to describe her demeanour.

. . . isn’t she?

THOMAS: . . . Yeah.

PHILOSOPHER: She always like that?

THOMAS: Yeah.