Arthur Hohl

The Girl: That isn't love.

Henri Verdoux: What is love?

The Girl: Giving, sacrificing. The same thing a mother feels for her child.

Henri Verdoux: Did you love that way?

The Girl: Yes.

Henri Verdoux: Whom?

The Girl: My husband.

Henri Verdoux: [stunned] You're married?

The Girl: I was. He died while I was in jail.

Henri Verdoux: [relieved] I see.

Henri Verdoux: [quizzing The Girl on her marriage] Tell me about him.

The Girl: That's a long story. He was wounded in the war. A hopeless invalid.

Henri Verdoux: An invalid?

The Girl: That's why I loved him. He needed me, depended on me. He was like a child. But he was more than a child to me. He was a religion, my very breath. I'd have killed for him. No, love is something very real and deep. I know that. However...

[reaches for the glass of wine]

Henri Verdoux: Pardon me, I believe there's a little cork in that wine.