Her ambition, want, desire, hope is nowhere near as free as George’s, as a woman it is bottled up everywhere in her body so as not to offend, except her eyes. There she's got a laser beam focused directly on George, burning all the hope, all the want, the pain of being seen for once in that lonely isolated factory , in this lonely town of lopsided privilege, where the men grow, and fulfill promise, and move on, gifting their eyes, their belief, to the Angela Vickers of the world, who seem to have it all, and want even what little happiness you have found. Winters with one look of sad, near pathetic longing burns the disappointment of believing in the promise of the George Eastman’s only then to be altogether tossed away with a baby now in tow with such little regard, by a man who himself is so little as to beg for regard by those who have so little for him, born of nothing more than the idea of who he is. She sees him, and she wants so wantonly for him to see her. Winters with her eyes only, gives one last plea into the darkness of inevitability and futility, asking George to not so much forget what he doesn’t have, as remember what he does. She is delivering her closing argument, in the cause of George Eastman vs the world, presenting her case with modesty that everything might just be okay as long as they the have-nots stick together. “Let’s drift for awhile I’m not afraid of the dark”.
