Willa: Harry?
Powell: I was praying.
Willa: Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I--I thought...
Powell: You thought, Willa, that the moment you walked in that door, I'd start to paw at you in that abominable way that men are supposed to do on their weddin' night. Ain't that right now?
Willa: No, no, no. [She crosses her hands over her breasts]
Powell: I think it's time we made one thing perfectly clear, Willa. Marriage to me represents the blending of two spirits in the sight of heaven. Get up, Willa. Get up! Now go look at yourself yonder in that mirror. Do as I say! Look at yourself! What do ya see, girl? You see the body of a woman, the temple of creation and motherhood. You see the flesh of Eve that man since Adam has profaned. That body was meant for begettin' children. It was not meant for the lust of men. Do you want more children, Willa?
Willa: I-I, no.
Powell: It's the business of this marriage to mind those two you have now, not to beget more.
Willa: Yes.
Powell: All right, you can get in bed now, stop shiverin'.
Willa: [praying] Help me to get clean, so I can be what Harry wants me to be.
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