SCENE. _Two months have elapsed. The scene is at_ BROCKTON'S
_apartment in a hotel such as is not over particular concerning
the relations of its tenants. There are a number of these hotels
throughout the theatre district of New York, and, as a rule, one will
find them usually of the same type. The room in which this scene is
placed is that of the general living-room in one of the handsomest
apartments in the building. The prevailing colour is green, and there
is nothing particularly gaudy about the general furnishings. They
are in good taste, but without the variety of arrangement and
ornamentation which would naturally obtain in a room occupied by
people a bit more particular concerning their surroundings. Down stage
is a table about three feet square which can be used not only as a
general centre-table, but also for service while the occupants are
eating. There is a breakfast service on this table, and also a tray
and stand behind it. There is a chair at either side of the table,
and at right coming up stage, the room turns at a sharp angle of
thirty-five degrees, and this space is largely taken up by a large
doorway. This is equipped with sliding-doors and hung with green
portières, which are handsome and in harmony with the general scheme
of the furnishings of the room. This entrance is to the sleeping-room
of the apartments_.
_At the back of the stage is a large window or alcove. The window
is on the ordinary plan, and the view through it shows the back of
another building of New York, presumably a hotel of about the same
character. Green portières are also hung on the windows. Down left
is the entrance to the corridor of the hotel, and this must be
so arranged that it works with a latch-key and opens upon a small
hallway, which separates the apartment from the main hallway. This is
necessary as the action calls for the slamming of a door, and later
the opening of the direct and intimate door of the apartment with
a latch-key. Left of centre is a sofa, and there is a general
arrangement of chairs without over-crowding the apartment. Just below,
where the right portière is hung, is a long, full-length mirror, such
as women dress by. Against wall is a lady's fancy dresser._
_To the immediate left of the sliding-doors, which go into the
sleeping-apartment, is a lady's small writing-desk, with a drawer on
the right-hand side, in which is a pearl-handled 32-calibre revolver.
The front of the desk is open at rise. On top of the desk is a desk
lamp and a large box of candy; inside the desk is writing material,
&c. In pigeon-hole left there is a small photo and frame, which_ ANNIE
_places on the table when she removes the breakfast set. In front of
centre window in alcove is a small table on which is a parlour lamp,
and some newspapers, including the "New York Sun." On the floor
running between the desk and table is a large fur rug. In front of the
table is a small gilt chair; in front of desk there is also a small
gilt chair; there is a pianola piano, on top of which is a bundle of
music-rolls. In place, ready to play, is a roll of a negro tune called
"Bon-Bon Buddie, My Chocolate Drop." On top of the piano, in
addition to the music-rolls, are a fancy lamp, a large basket of
chrysanthemums, and two photos in frames, at the upper corner.
Standing on the floor is a large piano lamp. On the sofa are cushions,
and thrown over its back is a lady's opera-coat. On the sofa are also
a fan and some small dinner favours._
_On the dresser are a lady's silver toilet set, including powder
boxes, rouge boxes, manicuring implements, and a small plush black cat
that might have been a favour at some time. Two little dolls hang
on the side of the glass of the dresser, which also might have been
favours. These are used later in the action, and are necessary._
AT RISE. _When the curtain rises on this scene it is noticeable that
the occupants of the room must have returned rather late at night,
after having dined, not wisely, but too well. In the alcove is a man's
dress-coat and vest thrown on the cushions in a most careless manner;
a silk hat badly rumpled is near it. Over the top of sofa is an
opera-cloak, and hung on the mirror is a huge hat, of the evening
type, such as women would pay handsomely for. A pair of gloves is
thrown on top of the pier-glass. The curtains in the bay-window are
half drawn, and the light shades are half drawn down the windows, so
that when the curtain goes up the place is in a rather dim light.
On the table are the remains of a breakfast, which is served in a
box-like tray such as is used in hotels._ LAURA _is discovered sitting
at right of table, her hair a bit untidy. She has on a very expensive
negligée gown._ WILL, _in a business suit, is at the other side of the
table, and both have evidently just about concluded their breakfast
and are reading the newspapers while they sip their coffee._ LAURA
_is intent in the scanning of her "Morning Telegraph," while_ WILL _is
deep in the market reports of the "Journal of Commerce," and in each
instance these things must be made apparent._ WILL _throws down the
paper rather impatiently._
WILL. Have you seen the _Sun_, Laura?
LAURA. No.
WILL. Where is it?
LAURA. I don't know.
WILL. [_In a loud voice._] Annie, Annie! [_A pause._] Annie! [_In an
undertone, half directed to_ LAURA.] Where the devil is that nigger?
LAURA. Why, I suppose she's at breakfast.
WILL. Well, she ought to be here.
LAURA. Did it ever occur to you that she has got to eat just the same
as you have?
WILL. She's your servant, isn't she?
LAURA. My maid.
WILL. Well, what have you got her for,--to eat or to wait on you?
Annie!
LAURA. Don't be so cross. What do you want?
WILL. I want the _Sun_.
[BROCKTON _pours out one half glass of water from bottle._
LAURA. I will get it for you.
_Rather wearily she gets up and goes to the table, where there are
other morning papers; she takes the "Sun," hands it to him, goes back
to her seat, re-opens the "Morning Telegraph." There is a pause._
ANNIE _enters from the sleeping-room._
ANNIE. Do yuh want me, suh?
WILL. Yes, I did want you, but don't now. When I'm at home I have a
man to look after me, and I get what I want.
LAURA. For heaven's sake, Will, have a little patience. If you like
your man so well, you had better live at home, but don't come around
here with a grouch and bulldoze everybody.
WILL. Don't think for a moment that there's much to come around here
for. Annie, this room's stuffy.
ANNIE. Yassuh.
WILL. Draw those portières. Let those curtains up. [ANNIE _lets up
curtain._] Let's have a little light. Take away these clothes and hide
them. Don't you know that a man doesn't want to see the next morning
anything to remind him of the night before. Make the place look a
little respectable.
_In the meantime_ ANNIE _scurries around, picking up the coat and
vest, opera-cloak, &c., as rapidly as possible, and throwing them over
her arm without any idea of order. It is very apparent that she is
rather fearful of the anger of_ WILL _while he is in this mood._
WILL. [_Looking at her._] Be careful. You're not taking the wash off
the line.
ANNIE. Yassuh. [_Exit in confusion._
LAURA. [_Laying down paper and looking at_ WILL.] Well, I must say
you're rather amiable this morning.
WILL. I feel like hell.
LAURA. Market unsatisfactory?
WILL. No; head too big. [_He lights a cigar; as he takes a puff he
makes an awful face._] Tastes like punk. [_Puts cigar into cup._
LAURA. You drank a lot.
WILL. We'll have to cut out those parties. I can't do those things any
more. I'm not as young as I was, and in the morning it makes me sick.
How do you feel?
LAURA. A little tired, that's all. [_Rises, and crosses to bureau._
WILL. You didn't touch anything?
LAURA. No.
WILL. I guess you're on the safe side. It was a great old party,
though, wasn't it?
LAURA. Did you think so?
WILL. Oh, for that sort of a blow-out. Not too rough, but just a
little easy. I like them at night and I hate them in the morning. [_He
picks up the paper and commences to glance it over in a casual manner,
not interrupting his conversation._] Were you bored?
LAURA. Yes; always at things like that.
WILL. Well, you don't have to go.
LAURA. You asked me.
WILL. Still, you could say no. [LAURA _picks up paper, puts it on
table and crosses back to bureau._
LAURA. But you asked me.
WILL. What did you go for if you didn't want to?
LAURA. _You_ wanted me to.
WILL. I don't quite get you.
LAURA. Well, Will, you have all my time when I'm not in the theatre,
and you can do with it just what you please. You pay for it. I'm
working for you.
WILL. Is that all I've got,--just your time?
LAURA. [_Wearily._] That and the rest. [LAURA _crosses up to desk,
gets "part," crosses to sofa, turning pages of "part."_] I guess you
know. [_Crosses to sofa and sits._
WILL. [_Looking at her curiously._] Down in the mouth, eh? I'm sorry.
LAURA. No, only if you want me to be frank, I'm a little tired. You
may not believe it, but I work awfully hard over at the theatre.
Burgess will tell you that. I know I'm not so very good as an actress,
but I try to be. [LAURA _lies down on sofa._] I'd like to succeed,
myself. They're very patient with me. Of course they've got to
be,--that's another thing you're paying for, but I don't seem to get
along except this way.
WILL. Oh, don't get sentimental. If you're going to bring up that sort
of talk, Laura, do it sometime when I haven't got a hang-over, and
then don't forget talk never does count for much.
LAURA _crosses up to mirror, picks up hat from box, puts it on, looks
in mirror. She turns around and looks at him steadfastly for a minute.
During this entire scene, from the time the curtain rises, she must in
a way indicate a premonition of an approaching catastrophe, a feeling,
vague but nevertheless palpable, that something is going to happen.
She must hold this before her audience so that she can show to them,
without showing to him, the disgust she feels._ LAURA _has tasted
of the privations of self-sacrifice during her struggle, and she has
weakly surrendered and is unable to go back, but that brief period of
self-abnegation has shown to her most clearly the rottenness of the
other sort of living. There are enough sentimentality and emotion in
her character to make it impossible for her to accept this manner of
existence as_ ELFIE _does. Hers is not a nature of careless candour,
but of dreamy ideals and better living, warped, handicapped,
disillusioned, and destroyed by a weakness that finds its principal
force in vanity._ WILL _resumes his newspaper in a more attentive way.
The girl looks at him and expresses in pantomime, by the slightest
gesture or shrug of the shoulders, her growing distaste for him and
his way of living. In the meantime_ WILL _is reading the paper rather
carefully. He stops suddenly and then looks at his watch._
LAURA. What time is it?
WILL. After ten.
LAURA. Oh.
WILL _at this moment particularly reads some part of the paper, turns
to her with a keen glance of suspicion and inquiry, and then for a
very short moment evidently settles in his mind a cross-examination.
He has read in this paper a despatch from Chicago, which speaks
of_ JOHN MADISON _having arrived there as a representative of a big
Western mining syndicate which is going to open large operations in
the Nevada gold-fields, and representing_ MR. MADISON _as being on his
way to New York with sufficient capital to enlist more, and showing
him to be now a man of means. The attitude of_ LAURA _and the
coincidence of the despatch bring back to_ WILL _the scene in Denver,
and later in New York, and with that subtle intuition of the man of
the world he connects the two._
WILL. I don't suppose, Laura, that you'd be interested now in knowing
anything about that young fellow out in Colorado? What was his
name--Madison?
LAURA. Do you know anything?
WILL. No, nothing particularly. I've been rather curious to know how
he came out. He was a pretty fresh young man and did an awful lot of
talking. I wonder how he's doing and how he's getting along. I don't
suppose by any chance you have ever heard from him?
LAURA. No, no; I've never heard. [_Crosses to bureau._
WILL. I presume he never replied to that letter you wrote?
LAURA. No.
WILL. It would be rather queer, eh, if this young fellow should
[_Looks at paper._] happen to come across a lot of money--not that I
think he ever could, but it would be funny, wouldn't it?
LAURA. Yes, yes; it would be unexpected. I hope he does. It might make
him happy.
WILL. Think he might take a trip East and see you act. You know you've
got quite a part now.
LAURA. [_Impatiently._] I wish you wouldn't discuss this. Why do you
mention it now? [_Crossing to right of table._] Is it because you were
drinking last night and lost your sense of delicacy? You once had some
consideration for me. What I've done I've done. I'm giving you all
that I can. Please, please, don't hurt me any more than you can help.
That's all I ask.
[_Crossing up to mirror. Crosses back to right of table; sits._
WILL. Well, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, Laura. I guess I am feeling
a little bad to-day. Really, I don't want to hurt your feelings, my
dear.
_He gets up, goes to her, puts his hands on her shoulders, and his
cheek close to the back of her head. She bends forward and shudders
a little bit. It is very easy to see that the life she is leading is
becoming intolerable to her._
WILL. You know, dearie, I do a lot for you because you've always been
on the level with me. I'm sorry I hurt you, but there was too much
wine last night and I'm all upset. Forgive me.
LAURA, _in order to avoid his caresses, has leaned forward; her hands
are clasped between her knees, and she is looking straight outward
with a cold, impassive expression._ WILL _regards her silently for a
moment. Really in the man's heart there is an affection, and really
he wants to try to comfort her; but he seems to realize that she has
slipped away from the old environment and conditions, and that he
simply bought her back; that he hasn't any of her affection, even with
his money; that she evinces toward him none of the old camaraderie;
and it hurts him, as those things always hurt a selfish man, inclining
him to be brutal and inconsiderate._ WILL _crosses to centre, and
stands reading paper; bell rings; a pause and second bell._ WILL
_seizes upon this excuse to go up-stage and over towards the door._
WILL. [_After second bell._] Damn that bell.
_He continues on his way; he opens the door, leaves it open, and
passes on to the outer door, which he opens._ LAURA _remains immovable
and impassive, with the same cold, hard expression on her face. He
comes in, slamming the outer door with effect, which one must have at
this point of the play, because it is essential to a situation coming
later. Enters the room, closes the door, and holds in his hand a
telegram. Looks from newspaper to telegram._
WILL. A wire.
LAURA. For me?
WILL. Yes.
LAURA. From whom, I wonder. Perhaps Elfie with a luncheon engagement.
WILL. [_Handing telegram to her._] I don't know. Here.
_Pause; he faces her, looking at her. She opens it quickly. She reads
it and, as she does, gasps quickly with an exclamation of fear and
surprise. This is what the despatch says (it is dated at Buffalo and
addressed to_ LAURA): _"I will be in New York before noon. I'm coming
to marry you and I'm coming with a bank-roll. I wanted to keep it
secret and have a big surprise for you, but I can't hold it any
longer, because I feel just like a kid with a new top. Don't go out,
and be ready for the big matrimonial thing. All my love. John."_
WILL. No bad news, I hope?
LAURA. [_Walking up stage rather hurriedly._] No, no--not bad news.
WILL. I thought you were startled.
LAURA. No, not at all.
WILL. [_Looking at paper about where he had left off._] From Elfie?
[_Crosses to, and sits in armchair._
LAURA. No, just a friend.
WILL. Oh!
_He makes himself rather comfortable in the chair, and_ LAURA _regards
him for a moment from up stage as if trying to figure out how to get
rid of him_.
LAURA. Won't you be rather late getting down town, Will?
WILL. Doesn't make any difference. I don't feel much like the office
now. Thought I might order the car and take a spin through the park.
The cold air will do me a lot of good. Like to go?
LAURA. No, not to-day. I thought your business was important; you said
so last night. [_Crosses to sofa, and stands_.
WILL. No hurry. Do you--er--want to get rid of me?
LAURA. Why should I?
WILL. Expecting someone?
LAURA. No--not exactly. [_Crosses up to window_.
WILL. If you don't mind, I'll stay here. [_Lets curtain fly up_.
LAURA. Just as you please. [_A pause. Crosses to piano; plays_.] Will?
WILL. Yes.
LAURA. How long does it take to come from Buffalo?
WILL. Depends on the train you take.
LAURA. About how long?
WILL. Between eight and ten hours, I think. Some one coming?
LAURA. Do you know anything about the trains?
WILL. Not much. Why don't you find out for yourself? Have Annie get
the time-table?
LAURA. I will. Annie! Annie!
[_Rises from piano_. ANNIE _appears at doorway_.
ANNIE. Yassum!
LAURA. Go ask one of the hall-boys to bring me a New York Central
time-table.
ANNIE. Yassum!
_Crosses the stage and exits through door_. LAURA _sits on left arm of
sofa_.
WILL. Then you _do_ expect someone, eh?
LAURA. Only one of the girls who used to be in the same company with
me. But I'm not sure that she's coming here.
WILL. Then the wire was from her?
LAURA. Yes.
WILL. Did she say what train she was coming on?
LAURA. No.
WILL. Well, there are a lot of trains. About what time did you expect
her in?
LAURA. She didn't say.
WILL. Do I know her?
LAURA. I think not. I met her while I worked in 'Frisco.
WILL. Oh! [_Resumes his paper_.
ANNIE _reënters with a time-table and hands it to_ LAURA.
LAURA. Thanks; take those breakfast things away, Annie.
[_Sits on sofa_.
ANNIE _complies; takes them across stage, opens the door leading
to the corridor, exits_. LAURA _in the meantime is studying the
time-table_.
LAURA. I can't make this out.
WILL. Give it here; maybe I can help you.
LAURA _crosses to right of table, sits opposite_ WILL, _and hands him
the time-table. He takes it and handles it as if he were familiar with
it_.
WILL. Where is she coming from?
LAURA. The West; the telegram was from Buffalo. I suppose she was on
her way when she sent it.
WILL. There's a train comes in here at 9:30--that's the Twentieth
Century,--that doesn't carry passengers from Buffalo; then there's one
at 11:41; one at 1:49; another at 3:45; another at 5:40; and another
at 5:48--that's the Lake Shore Limited, a fast train; and all pass
through Buffalo. Did you think of meeting her?
LAURA. No. She'll come here when she arrives.
WILL. Knows where you live?
LAURA. She has the address.
WILL. Ever been to New York before?
LAURA. I think not.
WILL. [_Passing her the time-table_.] Well, that's the best I can do
for you.
LAURA. Thank you. [_Crosses and puts time-table in desk_.
WILL. [_Takes up the paper again_. LAURA _looks at clock_.] By George,
this is funny.
LAURA. What?
WILL. Speak of the devil, you know.
LAURA. Who?
WILL. Your old friend Madison.
LAURA. [_Utters a slight exclamation and makes an effort to control
herself_.] What--what about him?
WILL. He's been in Chicago.
LAURA. How do you know?
WILL. Here's a despatch about him.
LAURA. [_Coming quickly over to him, looks over his shoulder_.]
What--where--what's it about?
WILL. Well, I'm damned if he hasn't done what he said he'd do--see!
[_Holds the paper so that she can see_. LAURA _takes paper_.] He's
been in Chicago, and is on his way to New York. He's struck it rich
in Nevada and is coming with a lot of money. Queer, isn't it? [LAURA
_puts paper on table_.] Did you know anything about it? [_Lights
cigarette_.
LAURA. No, no; nothing at all. [_Crosses to bureau_.
WILL. Lucky for him, eh?
LAURA. Yes, yes; it's very nice.
WILL. Too bad he couldn't get this a little sooner, eh, Laura?
LAURA. Oh, I don't know--I don't think it's too bad. What makes you
ask?
WILL. Oh, nothing. I suppose he ought to be here to-day. Are you going
to see him if he looks you up?
LAURA. No, no; I don't want to see him. You know that, don't you, that
I don't want to see him? What makes you ask these questions? [_Crosses
to sofa and sits_.
WILL. Just thought you might meet him, that's all. Don't get sore
about it.
LAURA. I'm not.
_She holds the telegram crumpled in one hand_. WILL _lays down the
paper, and regards_ LAURA _curiously. She sees the expression on his
face and averts her head in order not to meet his eye_.
LAURA. What are you looking at me that way for?
WILL. I wasn't conscious that I was looking at you in any particular
way--why?
LAURA. Oh, nothing. I guess I'm nervous, too.
[_Lies on sofa_.
WILL. I dare say you are. [_A pause_.
LAURA. Yes, I am. [WILL _crosses to_ LAURA.
WILL. You know I don't want to delve into a lot of past history at
this time, but I've got to talk to you for a moment.
LAURA. Why don't you do it some other time? I don't want to be talked
to now. [_Rises and crosses a little to left_.
WILL. But I've got to do it just the same.
LAURA. [_Trying to affect an attitude of resigned patience and
resignation_.] Well, what is it? [_Resuming seat on sofa_.
WILL. You've always been on the square with me, Laura. That's why I've
liked you a lot better than the other women.
LAURA. Are you going into all that again now, this morning? I thought
we understood each other.
WILL. So did I, but somehow I think that maybe we _don't_ quite
understand each other.
LAURA. In what way? [_Turns to_ WILL.
WILL. [_Looking her straight in the eye_.] That letter I dictated to
you the day that you came back to me, and left it for you to mail--did
you mail it?
LAURA. Yes.
WILL. You're quite sure?
LAURA. Yes, I'm quite sure. I wouldn't say so if I wasn't.
WILL. And you didn't know Madison was coming East until you read about
it in that newspaper?
LAURA. No--no, I didn't know.
WILL. Have you heard from him?
LAURA. No--no--I haven't heard from him. Don't talk to me about this
thing. Why can't you leave me alone? I'm miserable enough as it is.
[_Crossing to extreme right_.
WILL. [_Crossing to table_.] But I've got to talk to you. Laura,
you're lying to me.
LAURA. What! [_She makes a valiant effort to become angry_.
WILL. You're lying to me, and you've been lying to me, and I've
trusted you. Show me that telegram!
LAURA. No.
WILL. [_Going over towards her_.] Show me that telegram!
[LAURA _crosses up to doors leading into bedroom_.
LAURA. [_Tears telegram in half_.] You've no right to ask me.
WILL. Are you going to make me take it away [LAURA _crosses to
window_.] from you? I've [_Crosses to sofa_.] never laid my hands on
you yet.
LAURA. It's my business.
[_Crossing to left of sofa, around it on down-stage side_.
WILL. Yes, and it's mine.
_During scene. Backing away from_ WILL, _who is following her_, LAURA
_backs against bureau_. WILL _grabs her and attempts to take telegram
from her. She has put it in the front of her waist. She slowly draws
it out_.
WILL. That telegram's from Madison. Give it here!
LAURA. No.
WILL. I'm going to find out where I stand. Give me that telegram, or
I'll take it away from you.
LAURA. No.
WILL. Come on!
LAURA. I'll give it to you.
[_Takes telegram out of waist, and hands it to him_.
_He takes it slowly, looking her squarely in the eye_. WILL _crosses
to centre, and does not glance away while he slowly smoothes it out so
that it can be read; when he finally takes it in both hands to read it
she staggers back a step or two weakly_.
WILL. [_Reads the telegram aloud_.] "I will be in New York before
noon. I'm coming to marry you, and I'm coming with a bank-roll. I
wanted to keep it a secret and have a big surprise for you, but I
can't hold it any longer, because I feel just like a kid with a new
top. Don't go out, and be ready for the big matrimonial thing. All my
love. John." Then you knew?
LAURA. Yes.
WILL. But you didn't know he was coming until this arrived?
LAURA. No.
WILL. And you didn't mail the letter [_Tossing telegram on table_],
did you?
LAURA. No.
WILL. What did you do with it?
LAURA. I--I burned it.
WILL. Why?
[LAURA _is completely overcome and unable to answer_.
WILL. Why?
LAURA. I--I couldn't help it--I simply couldn't help it.
WILL. So you've been corresponding all this time.
LAURA. Yes.
WILL. And he doesn't know [_With a gesture around the room, indicating
the condition in which they live._] about us?
LAURA. No.
WILL. [_Taking a step towards her._] By God, I never beat a woman in
my life, but I feel as though I could wring your neck.
LAURA. Why don't you? You've done everything else. Why don't you?
WILL. Don't you know that I gave Madison my word that if you came back
to me I'd let him know? Don't you know that I like that young fellow,
and I wanted to protect him, and did everything I could to help
him? And do you know what you've done to me? You've made me out a
liar--you've made me lie to a man--a man--you understand. What are you
going to do now? Tell me--what are you going to do now? Don't stand
there as if you've lost your voice--how are you going to square me?
LAURA. I'm not thinking about squaring you. What am I going to do for
him?
WILL. Not what _you_ are going to do for him--what am _I_ going to do
for him. Why, I couldn't have that young fellow think that I tricked
him into this thing for you or all the rest of the women of your kind
on earth. God! I might have known that you, and the others like you,
couldn't be square. [_The girl looks at him dumbly. He glances at his
watch, walks up stage, looks out of the window, comes down again, goes
to the table, and looks at her across it._] You've made a nice mess of
it, haven't you?
LAURA. [_Weakly._] There isn't any mess. Please go away. He'll be here
soon. Please let _me_ see him--please do that.
WILL. No, I'll wait. This time I'm going to tell him myself, and I
don't care how tough it is.
LAURA. [_Immediately regaining all her vitality._] No, you mustn't do
that. [_Crossing back of table to centre._] Oh, Will, I'm not offering
any excuse. I'm not saying anything, but I'm telling you the truth. I
couldn't give him up--I couldn't do it. I love him.
WILL. Huh. [_Grins; crosses to front of sofa._
LAURA. Don't you think so? I know you can't see what I see, but I do.
And why can't you go away? Why can't you leave me this? It's all I
ever had. He doesn't know. No one will ever tell him. I'll take him
away. It's the best for him--it's the best for me. Please go.
WILL. Why--do you think that I'm going to let you trip him the way you
tripped me? [_Crosses and sits in armchair._] No. I'm going to stay
right here until that young man arrives, and I'm going to tell him
that it wasn't my fault. You were to blame.
LAURA. Then you are going to let him know. You're not going to give me
a single, solitary chance?
WILL. I'll give you every chance that you deserve when he knows. Then
he can do as he pleases, but there must be no more deception, that's
flat.
[LAURA _crosses and kneels beside_ WILL'S _chair._
LAURA. Then you must let me tell him--[WILL _turns away
impatiently._]--yes, you must. If I didn't tell him before, I'll do it
now. You must go. If you ever had any regard for me--if you ever had
any affection--if you ever had any friendship, please let me do this
now. I want you to go--you can come back. Then you'll see--you'll
know--only I want to try to make him understand that--that maybe if I
am weak I'm not vicious. I want to let him know that I didn't want to
do it, but I couldn't help it. Just give me the chance to be as good
as I can be. [WILL _gives her a look._] Oh, I promise you, I will
tell him, and then--then I don't care what happens--only he must learn
everything from me--please--please--let me do this--it's the last
favour I shall ever--ever ask of you. Won't you?
[LAURA _breaks down and weeps._
WILL. [_Rising, looks at her a moment as if mentally debating the best
thing to do. Crosses in front of table; stands facing her with back
to audience._] All right, I won't be unkind. I'll be back early this
afternoon, and just remember, this is the time you'll have to go right
through to the end. Understand?
LAURA. Yes, I'll do it,--all of it. Won't you please go--now?
[_Crosses; sits in armchair._
WILL. All right. [_He exits into the bedroom and immediately enters
again with overcoat on his arm and hat in hand; he goes centre, and
turns._] I am sorry for you, Laura, but remember you've got to tell
the truth.
LAURA. [_Who is sitting in a chair looking straight in front of her
with a set expression._] Please go. [WILL _exits._
LAURA _sits in a chair in a state of almost stupefaction, holding this
attitude as long as possible._ ANNIE _enters, and in a characteristic
manner begins her task of tidying up the room;_ LAURA, _without
changing her attitude, and staring straight in front of her, her
elbows between her knees and her chin on her hands._
LAURA. Annie!
ANNIE. Yassum.
LAURA. Do you remember in the boarding-house--when we finally packed
up--what you did with everything?
ANNIE. Yassum.
LAURA. You remember that I used to keep a pistol?
ANNIE. Yo' all mean dat one yo' say dat gemman out West gave yuh once?
LAURA. Yes.
ANNIE. Yassum, Ah 'membuh it.
LAURA. Where is it now?
ANNIE. [_Crosses to writing-desk._] Last Ah saw of it was in dis heah
draw' in de writin'-desk. [_This speech takes her across to desk; she
opens the drawer, fumbles among a lot of old papers, letters, &c., and
finally produces a small thirty-two calibre, and gingerly crosses to_
LAURA.] Is dis it?
LAURA. [_Slowly turns around and looks at it._] Yes. Put it back. I
thought perhaps it was lost. [ANNIE _complies, when the bell rings._
LAURA _starts suddenly, involuntarily gathering her negligée gown
closer to her figure, and at once she is under a great stress of
emotion, and sways upon her feet to such an extent that she is obliged
to put one hand out on to the table to maintain her balance. When
she speaks, it is with a certain difficulty of articulation._]
See--who--that is--and let me know.
ANNIE. [_Turning._] Yassum. [_Crosses, opens the first door, and
afterwards opens the second door._
ELFIE'S VOICE. [_Off stage._] Hello, Annie,--folks home?
ANNIE. Yassum, she's in.
LAURA _immediately evinces her tremendous relief, and_ ELFIE, _without
waiting for a reply, has shoved_ ANNIE _aside and enters,_ ANNIE
_following and closing the door._ ELFIE _is beautifully gowned in
a morning dress with an overabundance of fur trimmings and all the
furbelows that would accompany the extravagant raiment generally
affected by a woman of that type._ ELFIE _approaching effusively._
ELFIE. Hello, dearie.
LAURA. Hello, Elfie.
LAURA _crosses and sits on sofa._ ELFIE _puts muff, &c., on table._
ELFIE. It's a bully day out. [_Crossing to bureau, looking in
mirror._] I've been shopping all morning long; just blew myself
until I'm broke, that's all. My goodness, don't you ever get dressed?
Listen. [_Crosses left of table to centre._] Talk about cinches. I
copped out a gown, all ready made, and fits me like the paper on the
wall, for $37.80. Looks like it might have cost $200. Anyway I had
them charge $200 on the bill, and I kept the change. There are two or
three more down town there, and I want you to go down and look them
over. Models, you know, being sold out. I don't blame you for not
getting up earlier. [_She sits at the table, not noticing_ LAURA.]
That was some party last night. I know you didn't drink a great deal,
but gee! what an awful tide Will had on. How do you feel? [_Looks at
her critically._] What's the matter, are you sick? You look all in.
What you want to do is this--put on your duds and go out for an hour.
It's a perfectly grand day out. My Gaud! how the sun does shine! Clear
and cold. [_A pause._] Well, much obliged for the conversation. Don't
I get a "Good-morning," or a "How-dy-do," or a something of that sort?
LAURA. I'm tired, Elfie, and blue--terribly blue.
ELFIE. [_Rises; crosses to_ LAURA.] Well now, you just brace up and
cut out all that emotional stuff. I came down to take you for a drive.
You'd like it; just through the park. Will you go?
LAURA. [_Going up stage._] Not this morning, dear; I'm expecting
somebody.
ELFIE. A man?
LAURA. [_Finding it almost impossible to suppress a smile._] No, a
gentleman.
ELFIE. Same thing. Do I know him?
LAURA. You've heard of him. [_At desk, looking at clock._
ELFIE. Well, don't be so mysterious. Who is he?
LAURA. What is your time, Elfie?
ELFIE. [_Looks at her watch._] Five minutes past eleven.
LAURA. Oh, I'm slow. I didn't know it was so late. Just excuse me,
won't you, while I get some clothes on. He may be here any moment.
Annie!
[_She goes up stage towards portières._
ELFIE. Who?
LAURA. I'll tell you when I get dressed. Make yourself at home, won't
you, dear?
ELFIE. I'd sooner hear. What is the scandal anyway?
LAURA. [_As she goes out._] I'll tell you in a moment. Just as soon as
Annie gets through with me. [_Exit._
ELFIE. [_Gets candy-box off desk, crosses, sits on arm of sofa,
selecting candy. In a louder voice._] Do you know, Laura, I think I'll
go back on the stage.
LAURA. [_Off stage._] Yes?
ELFIE. Yes, I'm afraid I'll have to. I think I need a sort of a boost
to my popularity.
LAURA. How a boost, Elfie?
ELFIE. I think Jerry is getting cold feet. He's seeing a little too
much of me [_Places candy-box on sofa._] nowadays.
LAURA. What makes you think that?
ELFIE. I think he is getting a relapse of that front-row habit.
There's no use in talking, Laura, it's a great thing for a girl's
credit when a man like Jerry can take two or three friends to the
theatre, and when you make your entrance delicately point to you with
his forefinger and say, "The third one from the front on the left
belongs to muh." The old fool's hanging around some of these musical
comedies lately, and I'm getting a little nervous every time rent day
comes.
LAURA. Oh, I guess you'll get along all right, Elfie.
ELFIE. [_With serene self-satisfaction._] Oh, that's a cinch [_Rises;
crosses to table, looking in dresser mirror at herself, and giving her
hat and hair little touches._], but I like to leave well enough alone,
and if I had to make a change right now it would require a whole lot
of thought and attention, to say nothing of the inconvenience, and I'm
so nicely settled in my flat. [_She sees the pianola._] Say, dearie,
when did you get the piano-player? I got one of them phonographs
[_Crosses to pianola, tries the levers, &c._], but this has got that
beat a city block. How does it work? What did it cost?
LAURA. I don't know.
ELFIE. Well, Jerry's got to stake me to one of these. [_Looks over
the rolls on top. Mumbles to herself._] "Tannhauser, William Tell,
Chopin." [_Then louder._] Listen, dear. Ain't you got anything else
except all this high-brow stuff?
LAURA. What do you want?
ELFIE. Oh, something with a regular tune to it [_Looks at empty box on
pianola._]. Oh, here's one; just watch me tear this off. [_The roll
is the tune of "Bon-Bon Buddie, My Chocolate Drop." She starts to play
and moves the lever marked "Swell" wide open, increases the tempo, and
is pumping with all the delight and enthusiasm of a child._] Ain't it
grand?
LAURA. Gracious, Elfie, don't play so loud. What's the matter?
ELFIE. I shoved over that thing marked "Swell." [_Stops and turns.
Rises; crosses to centre and stands._] I sure will have to speak to
Jerry about this. I'm stuck on that swell thing. Hurry up. [LAURA
_appears._] Gee! you look pale. [_And then in a tone of sympathy:_]
I'll just bet you and Will have had a fight, and he always gets the
best of you, doesn't he, dearie? [LAURA _crosses to dresser, and
busies herself._] Listen. Don't you think you can ever get him
trained? I almost threw Jerry down the stairs the other night and he
came right back with a lot of American beauties and a check. I told
him if he didn't look out I'd throw him down-stairs every night. He's
getting too damned independent and it's got me nervous. Oh, dear, I
s'pose I will have to go back on the stage. [_Sits in armchair._
LAURA. In the chorus?
ELFIE. Well, I should say not. I'm going to give up my musical career.
Charlie Burgess is putting on a new play, and he says he has a part
in it for me if I want to go back. It isn't much, but very
important,--sort of a pantomime part. A lot of people talk about me,
and just at the right time I walk across the stage and make an awful
hit. I told Jerry that if I went [LAURA _crosses to sofa, picks up
candy-box, puts it upon desk, gets telegram from table, crosses to
centre._] on he'd have to come across with one of those Irish crochet
lace gowns. He fell for it. Do you know, dearie, I think he'd sell out
his business just to have me back on the stage for a couple of weeks,
just to give box-parties every night for my _en_-trance and _ex_-its.
LAURA. [_Seriously._] Elfie! [LAURA _takes_ ELFIE _by the hand, and
leads her over to sofa._ LAURA _sits,_ ELFIE _standing._
ELFIE. Yes, dear.
LAURA. Come over here and sit down.
ELFIE. What's up?
LAURA. Do you know what I'm going to ask of you?
ELFIE. If it's a touch, you'll have to wait until next week. [_Sits
opposite_ LAURA.
LAURA. No: just a little advice.
ELFIE. [_With a smile._] Well, that's cheap, and Lord knows you need
it. What's happened?
LAURA _takes the crumpled and torn telegram that_ WILL _has left on
the table and hands it to_ ELFIE. _The latter puts the two pieces
together, reads it very carefully, looks up at_ LAURA _about middle of
telegram, and lays it down._
ELFIE. Well?
LAURA. Will suspected. There was something in the paper about Mr.
Madison--the telegram came--then we had a row.
ELFIE. Serious?
LAURA. Yes. Do you remember what I told you about that letter--the one
Will made me write--I mean to John--telling him what I had done?
ELFIE. Yes, you burned it.
LAURA. I tried to lie to Will--he wouldn't have it that way. He seemed
to know. He was furious.
ELFIE. Did he hit you?
LAURA. No; he made me admit that John didn't know, and then he said
he'd stay here and tell himself that I'd made him lie, and then he
said something about liking the other man and wanting to save him.
ELFIE. Save--shucks! He's jealous.
LAURA. I told him if he'd only go I'd--tell John myself when he came,
and now you see I'm waiting--and I've got to tell--and--and I don't
know how to begin--and--and I thought you could help me--you seem so
sort of resourceful, and it means--it means so much to me. If John
turned on me now I couldn't go back to Will, and, Elfie,--I don't
think I'd care to--stay here any more.
ELFIE. What! [_In an awestruck tone, taking_ LAURA _in her arms
impulsively._] Dearie, get that nonsense out of your head and be
sensible. I'd just like to see any two men who could make me think
about--well--what you seem to have in your mind.
LAURA. But I don't know; don't you see, Elfie, I don't know. If I
don't tell him, Will will come back and he'll tell him, and I know
John and maybe--Elfie, do you know, I think John would kill him.
ELFIE. Well, don't you think anything about that. Now let's get
[_Rises, crosses to armchair, draws it over a little, sits on left
arm._] down to cases, and we haven't much time. Business is business,
and love is love. You're long on love and I'm long on business, and
between the two of us we ought to straighten this thing out. Now,
evidently John is coming on here to marry you.
LAURA. Yes.
ELFIE. And you love him?
LAURA. Yes.
ELFIE. And as far as you know the moment that he comes in here it's
quick to the Justice and a big matrimonial thing.
LAURA. Yes, but you see how impossible it is--
ELFIE. I don't see anything impossible. From all you've said to me
about this fellow there is only one thing to do.
LAURA. One thing?
ELFIE. Yes--get married quick. You say he has the money and you have
the love, and you're sick of Brockton, and you want to switch and do
it in the decent, respectable, conventional way, and he's going to
take you away. Haven't you got sense enough to know that, once you're
married to Mr. Madison, Will Brockton wouldn't dare go to him, and if
he did Madison wouldn't believe him? A man will believe a whole lot
about his girl, but nothing about his wife.
LAURA. [_Turns and looks at her. There is a long pause._] Elfie
[_Rises; crosses to right of table._]--I--I don't think I could do
like that to John. I don't think--I could deceive him.
ELFIE. You make me sick. The thing to do is to lie to all men.
[_Rises; pushes chair to table._]--they all lie to you. Protect
yourself. You seem to think that your happiness depends on this. Now
do it. Listen. [_Touches_ LAURA _to make her sit down;_ LAURA _sits
right of table;_ ELFIE _sits on right arm of chair left of table,
with elbows on table._] Don't you realize that you and me, and all the
girls that are shoved into this life, are practically the common prey
of any man who happens to come along? Don't you know that they've got
about as much consideration for us as they have for any pet animal
around the house, and the only way that we've got it on the animal is
that we've got brains? This is a game, Laura, _not a sentiment_. Do
you suppose this Madison [LAURA _turns to_ ELFIE.]--now don't get
sore--hasn't turned these tricks himself before he met you, and I'll
gamble he's done it since! A man's natural trade is a heartbreaking
business. Don't tell me about women breaking men's hearts. The only
thing they can ever break is their bank roll. And besides, this is
not Will's business; he has no right to interfere. You've been with
him--yes, and he's been nice to you; but I don't think that he's given
you any the best of it. Now if you want to leave and go your own way
and marry any Tom, Dick, or Harry that you want, it's nobody's affair
but yours.
LAURA. But you don't understand--it's John. I can't lie to him.
ELFIE. Well, that's too bad about you. I used to have that truthful
habit myself, and the best I ever got was the worst of it. All this
talk about love and loyalty and constancy is fine and dandy in a book,
but when a girl has to look out for herself, take it from me, whenever
you've got that trump card up your sleeve just play it and rake in the
pot. [_Takes_ LAURA'S _hand affectionately._] You know, dearie, you're
just about the only one in the world I love.
LAURA. Elfie!
ELFIE. Since I broke away from the folks up state and they've heard
things, there ain't any more letters coming to me with an Oswego
postmark. Ma's gone, and the rest don't care. You're all I've got in
the world, Laura, and what I'm asking you to do is because I want to
see you happy. I was afraid this thing was coming off, and the thing
to do now is to grab your happiness, no matter how you get it nor
where it comes from. There ain't a whole lot of joy in this world for
you and me and the others we know, and what little you get you've got
to take when you're young, because, when those gray hairs begin to
come, and the make-up isn't going to hide the wrinkles, unless you're
well fixed, it's going to be hell. You know what a fellow doesn't know
doesn't hurt him, and he'll love you just the same and you'll love
him. As for Brockton, let him get another girl; there're plenty
'round. Why, if this chance came to me I'd tie a can to Jerry so quick
that you could hear it rattle all the way down Broadway. [_Rises,
crosses back of table to_ LAURA, _leans over back of chair, and puts
arms around her neck very tenderly._] Dearie, promise me that you
won't be a damn fool.
[_The bell rings; both start._
LAURA. [_Rises._] Maybe that's John.
[ELFIE _brushes a tear quickly from her eye._
ELFIE. Oh! And you'll promise me, Laura?
LAURA. I'll try. [ANNIE _enters up stage from the adjoining room and
crosses to the door._] If that's Mr. Madison, Annie, tell him to come
in.
LAURA _stands near the table, almost rigid. Instinctively_ ELFIE _goes
to the mirror and re-arranges her gown and hair as_ ANNIE _exits._
ELFIE _turns to_ LAURA.
ELFIE. If I think he's the fellow when I see him, watch me and I'll
tip you the wink.
[_Kisses_ LAURA; _up stage puts on coat._
_She goes up stage to centre;_ LAURA _remains in her position. The
doors are heard to open, and in a moment_ JOHN _enters. He is
dressed very neatly in a business suit, and his face is tanned and
weather-beaten. After he enters, he stands still for a moment. The
emotion that both he and_ LAURA _go through is such that each is
trying to control it,_ LAURA _from the agony of her position, and_
JOHN _from the mere hurt of his affection. He sees_ ELFIE _and forces
a smile._
JOHN. [_Quietly._] Hello, Laura! I'm on time.
LAURA _smiles, quickly crosses the stage, and holds out her hand._
LAURA. Oh, John, I'm so glad--so glad to see you. [_They hold this
position for a moment, looking into each other's eyes._ ELFIE _moves
so as to take_ JOHN _in from head to toe and is obviously very much
pleased with his appearance. She coughs slightly._ LAURA _takes a step
back with a smile._] Oh, pardon me, John--one of my dearest friends,
Miss Sinclair; she's heard a lot about you.
ELFIE, _with a slight gush, in her most captivating manner, goes
over and holds out her gloved hand laden with bracelets, and with her
sweetest smile crosses to centre._
ELFIE. How do you do?
MADISON. I'm glad to meet you, I'm sure.
ELFIE. [_Still holding_ JOHN'S _hand._] Yes, I'm sure you
are--particularly just at this time. [_To_ LAURA.] You know that old
stuff about two's company and three [LAURA _smiles._] is a crowd.
Here's where I vamoose. [_Crosses to door._
LAURA. [_As_ ELFIE _goes toward door._] Don't hurry, dear.
ELFIE. [_With a grin._] No, I suppose not; just fall down stairs
and get out of the way, that's all. [_Crosses to_ JOHN.] Anyway, Mr.
Madison, I'm awfully glad to have met you, and I want to congratulate
you. They tell me you're rich.
JOHN. Oh, no; not rich.
ELFIE. Well, I don't believe you--anyway I'm going. Ta-ta, dearie.
Good-bye, Mr. Madison.
JOHN. Good-bye.
[JOHN _crosses up to back of sofa; removes coat, puts it on sofa._
ELFIE. [_Goes to the door, opens it and turns._ JOHN'S _back is partly
toward her and she gives a long wink at_ LAURA, _snapping fingers to
attract_ LAURA'S _attention._] I must say, Laura, that when it comes
to picking live ones, you certainly can go some.
[_After this remark both turn toward her and both smile._
[_Exit._
_After_ ELFIE _exits,_ JOHN _turns to_ LAURA _with a pleasant smile,
and jerks his head towards the door where_ ELFIE _has gone out._
JOHN. I bet she's a character.
LAURA. She's a dear.
JOHN. I can see that all right. [_Crossing to centre._
LAURA. She's been a very great friend to me.
JOHN. That's good, but don't I get a "how-dy-do," or a handshake, or a
little kiss? You know I've come a long way.
LAURA _goes to him and places herself in his arms; he kisses her
affectionately. During all this scene between them the tenderness of
the man is very apparent. As she releases herself from his embrace he
takes her face in his hands and holds it up towards his._
JOHN. I'm not much on the love-making business, Laura, but I never
thought I'd be as happy as I am now. [JOHN _and_ LAURA _cross to
centre._ LAURA _kneels in armchair with back to audience,_ JOHN
_stands left of her._] I've been counting mile-posts ever since I left
Chicago, and it seemed like as if I had to go 'round the world before
I got here.
LAURA. You never told me about your good fortune. If you hadn't
telegraphed I wouldn't even have known you were coming.
JOHN. I didn't want you to. I'd made up my mind to sort of drop in
here and give you a great big surprise,--a happy one, I knew,--but the
papers made such a fuss in Chicago that I thought you might have read
about it--did you?
LAURA. No.
JOHN. Gee! fixed up kind o' scrumptious, ain't you? [_Crosses in front
of sofa, around behind it, surveying rooms._] Maybe you've been almost
as prosperous as I have.
LAURA. You can get a lot of gilt and cushions in New York at half
price, and besides, I've got a pretty good part now.
JOHN. Of course I know that, but I didn't think it would make you
quite so comfortable. Great, ain't it?
LAURA. Yes.
JOHN. [_Standing beside her chair, with a smile._] Well, are you
ready?
LAURA. For what, dear? [_Looking up at him._
JOHN. You know what I said in the telegram?
LAURA. Yes. [_Leans her head affectionately on his shoulder._
JOHN. Well, I meant it.
LAURA. I know.
JOHN. I've got to get back [JOHN _looks around; crosses behind table
to chair right of table, and sits facing her across it._], Laura, just
as soon as ever I can. There's a lot of work to be done out in Nevada
and I stole away to come to New York. I want to take you back. Can you
go?
LAURA. Yes--when?
JOHN. This afternoon. We'll take the eighteen-hour train to Chicago,
late this afternoon, and connect at Chicago with the Overland, and
I'll soon have you in a home. [_Pause._] And here's another secret.
LAURA. What, dear?
JOHN. I've got that home all bought and furnished, and while you
couldn't call it a Fifth Avenue residence, still it has got something
on any other one in town.
LAURA. But, John, you've been so mysterious. In all your letters you
haven't told me a single, solitary thing about your good luck.
JOHN. I've planned to take you out and show you all that.
LAURA. You should have told me,--I've been so anxious.
JOHN. I waited until it was a dead-sure thing. You know it's been
pretty tough sledding out there in the mining country, and it did look
as if I never would make a strike; but your spirit was with me and
luck was with me, and I knew if I could only hold out that something
would come my way. I had two pals, both of them miners,--they had the
knowledge and I had the luck,--and one day, clearing away a little
snow to build a fire, I poked my toe into the dirt, and there was
somethin' there, dearie, that looked suspicious. I called Jim,--that's
one of the men,--and in less time than it takes to tell you there were
three maniacs scratching away at old mother earth for all there was
in it. We staked our claims in two weeks, and I came to Reno to raise
enough money for me to come East. Now things are all fixed and it's
just a matter of time. [_Taking_ LAURA'S _hand._
LAURA. So you're very, very rich, dear?
JOHN. Oh, not rich [_Releasing her hand, he leans back in his
chair._], just heeled. I'm not going down to the Wall Street bargain
counter and buy the Union Pacific, or anything like that; but we won't
have to take the trip on tourists' tickets, and there's enough money
to make us comfortable all the rest of our lives.
LAURA. How hard you must have worked and suffered.
JOHN. Nobody else ever accused me of that, but I sure will have to
plead guilty to you. [_Rises; stands at upper side of table._] Why,
dear, since the day you came into my life, hell-raising took a sneak
out the back door and God poked His toe in the front, and ever since
then I think He's been coming a little closer to me. [_Crossing
over._] I used to be a fellow without much faith, and kidded everybody
who had it, and I used to say to those who prayed and believed, "You
may be right, but show me a message." You came along and you brought
that little document in your sweet face and your dear love. Laura, you
turned the trick for me, and I think I'm almost a regular man now.
LAURA _turns away in pain; the realization of all she is to_ JOHN
_weighs heavily upon her. She almost loses her nerve, and is on the
verge of not going through with her determination to get her happiness
at any price._
LAURA. John, please, don't. I'm not worth it.
[_Rises, crosses to right._
JOHN. [_With a light air._] Not worth it? Why, you're worth [_Crossing
behind table, stands behind_ LAURA.] that and a whole lot more. And
see how you've got on! Brockton told me you never could get along
in your profession, but I knew you could. [_Crosses back of_ LAURA,
_takes her by the shoulders, shakes her playfully._] I knew what you
had in you, and here you are. You see, if my foot hadn't slipped on
the right ground and kicked up pay-dirt, you'd been all right. You
succeeded and I succeeded, but I'm going to take you away; and after
a while, when things sort of smooth out, and it's all clear where the
money's [_Crosses to sofa and sits._] coming from, we're going to move
back here, and go to Europe, and just have a great time, like a couple
of good pals.
LAURA. [_Slowly crosses to_ JOHN.] But if I hadn't succeeded and if
things--things weren't just as they seem--would it make any difference
to you, John?
JOHN. Not the least in the world. [_He takes her in his arms and
kisses her, drawing her on to sofa beside him._] Now don't you get
blue. I should not have surprised you this way. It's taken you off
your feet. [_He looks at his watch, rises, crosses behind sofa, gets
overcoat._] But we've not any time to lose. How soon can you get
ready?
LAURA. [_Kneeling on sofa, leaning over back._] You mean to go?
JOHN. Nothing else.
LAURA. Take all my things?
JOHN. All your duds.
LAURA. Why, dear, I can get ready most any time.
JOHN. [_Looking off into bedroom._] That your maid?
LAURA. Yes,--Annie.
JOHN. Well, you and she can pack everything you want to take; the rest
can follow later. [_Puts coat on._] I planned it all out. There's
a couple of the boys working down town,--newspaper men on Park Row.
Telephoned them when I got in and they're waiting for me. I'll just
get down there as soon as I can. I won't be gone long.
LAURA. How long?
JOHN. I don't know just how long, but we'll make that train. I'll get
the license. We'll be married and we'll be off on our honeymoon this
afternoon. Can you do it?
LAURA _goes up to him, puts her hands in his, and they confront each
other._
LAURA. Yes, dear, I could do anything for you.
_He takes her in his arms and kisses her again. Looks at her
tenderly._
JOHN. That's good. Hurry now. I won't be long. Good-bye.
LAURA. Hurry back, John.
JOHN. Yes. I won't be long. [_Exit._
LAURA. [_Stands for a moment looking after him; then she suddenly
recovers herself and walks rapidly over to the dresser, picks up large
jewel-case, takes doll that is hanging on dresser, puts them on her
left arm, takes black cat in her right hand and uses it in emphasizing
her words in talking to_ ANNIE. _Places them all on table._] Annie,
Annie, come here!
ANNIE. Yassum. [_She appears at the door._
LAURA. Annie, I'm going away, and I've got to hurry.
ANNIE. Goin' away?
LAURA. Yes. I want you to bring both my trunks out here,--I'll help
you,--and start to pack. We can't take everything.
[ANNIE _throws fur rug from across doorway into bedroom._], but bring
all the clothes out and we'll hurry as fast as we can. Come on.
_Exit_ LAURA _with_ ANNIE. _In a very short interval she re-appears,
and both are carrying a large trunk between them. They put it down,
pushing sofa back._
ANNIE. Look out for your toes, Miss Laura.
LAURA. I can take two.
ANNIE. Golly, such excitement. [_Crosses to table; pushes it over
further, also armchair._] Wheah yuh goin', Miss Laura?
LAURA. Never mind where I'm going. I haven't any time to waste now
talking. I'll tell you later. This is one time, Annie, that you've got
to move. Hurry up.
LAURA _pushes her in front of her. Exeunt the same way and re-appear
with a smaller trunk._
ANNIE. Look out fo' your dress, Miss Laura.
_These trunks are of the same type as those in Act II. When the trunks
are put down_ LAURA _opens one and commences to throw things out._
ANNIE _stands watching her._ LAURA _kneels in front of trunk, working
and humming "Bon-Bon Buddie."_
ANNIE. Ah nevah see you so happy, Miss Laura.
LAURA. I never was so happy. For heaven's sake, go get something.
Don't stand there looking at me. I want you to hurry.
ANNIE. I'll bring out all de fluffy ones first.
LAURA. Yes, everything. [ANNIE _enters with armful of dresses and
hat-box of tissue-paper; dumps tissue-paper on floor, puts dresses in
trunk._
ANNIE. [_Goes out again. Outside._] You goin' to take dat opera-cloak?
[_Enters with more dresses, puts them on sofa, takes opera-cloak,
spreads it on top of dresses on trunk._] My, but dat's a beauty. I
jest love dat crushed rosey one. [_Exit._
LAURA. Annie, you put the best dresses on the foot of the bed and I'll
get them myself. You heard what I said?
ANNIE. [_Off stage._] Yassum.
ANNIE _hangs dresses across bed in alcove._ LAURA _continues busily
arranging the contents of the trunk, placing some garments here and
some there, as if she were sorting them out._ WILL _quietly enters and
stands at the door, looking at her. He holds this position as long as
possible, and when he speaks it is in a very quiet tone._
WILL. Going away?
LAURA. [_Starts, rises, and confronts him._] Yes.
WILL. In somewhat of a hurry, I should say.
LAURA. Yes.
WILL. What's the plan?
LAURA. I'm just going, that's all.
WILL. Madison been here?
LAURA. He's just left.
WILL. Of course you are going with him?
LAURA. Yes.
WILL. West?
LAURA. To Nevada.
WILL. Going--er--to get married?
LAURA. Yes, this afternoon.
WILL. So he didn't care then?
LAURA. What do you mean when you say "he didn't care"?
WILL. Of course you told him about the letter, and how it was burned
up, and all that sort of thing, didn't you?
LAURA. Why, yes.
WILL. And he said it didn't make any difference?
LAURA. He--he didn't say anything. We're just going to be married,
that's all.
WILL. Did you mention my name and say that we'd been rather
companionable for the last two months?
LAURA. I told him you'd been a very good friend to me.
_During this scene_ LAURA _answers_ WILL _with difficulty, and to
a man of the world it is quite apparent that she is not telling the
truth._ WILL _looks over toward her in an almost threatening way._
WILL. How soon do you expect him back?
[_Crossing to centre._
LAURA. Quite soon. I don't know just exactly how long he'll be.
WILL. And you mean to tell me that you kept your promise and told him
the truth? [_Crossing to trunk._
LAURA. I--I--[_Then with defiance._] What business have you got to ask
me that? What business have you got to interfere anyway? [_Crossing up
to bed in alcove, gets dresses off foot, and puts them on sofa._
WILL. [_Quietly._] Then you've lied again. You lied to him, and
you just tried to lie to me now. I must say, Laura, that you're not
particularly clever at it, although I don't doubt but that you've had
considerable practice.
_Gives her a searching look and slowly walks over to the chair at the
table and sits down, still holding his hat in his hand and without
removing his overcoat._ LAURA _sees_ BROCKTON _sitting, stops and
turns on him, laying dresses down._
LAURA. What are you going to do?
WILL. Sit down here and rest a few moments; maybe longer.
LAURA. You can't do that.
WILL. I don't see why not. This is my own place.
LAURA. But don't you see that he'll come back here soon and find you
here?
WILL. That's just exactly what I want him to do.
LAURA. [_With suppressed emotion, almost on the verge of hysteria._]
I want to tell you this. If you do this thing you'll ruin my life.
You've done enough to it already. Now I want you to go. You've got to
go. I don't think you've got any right to come here now, in this way,
and take this happiness from me. I've given you everything I've got,
and now I want to live right and decent, and he wants me to, and we
love each other. Now, Will Brockton, it's come to this. You've got to
leave this place, do you hear? You've got to leave this place. Please
get out.
[_Crossing to trunk._
WILL. [_Rises and comes to her._] Do you think I'm going to let a
woman make a liar out of me? I'm going to stay right here. I like that
boy, and I'm not going to let you put him to the bad.
LAURA. I want you to go. [_Slams trunk lid down, crosses to dresser,
opens drawer to get stuff out._
WILL. And I tell you I won't go. I'm going to show you up. I'm going
to tell him the truth. It isn't you I care for--he's got to know.
LAURA. [_Slams drawer shut, loses her temper, and is almost tiger-like
in her anger._] You don't care for me?
WILL. No.
LAURA. It isn't me you're thinking of?
WILL. No.
LAURA. Who's the liar now?
WILL. Liar?
LAURA. Yes, liar. You are. You don't care for this man, and you know
it.
WILL. You're foolish.
LAURA. Yes, I am foolish and I've been foolish all my life, but I'm
getting a little sense now. [_Kneels in armchair, facing_ WILL; _her
voice is shaky with anger and tears._] All my life, since the day you
first took me away, you've planned and planned and planned to keep me,
and to trick me and bring me down with you. When you came to me I was
happy. I didn't have much, just a little salary and some hard work.
WILL. But like all the rest you found that wouldn't keep you, didn't
you?
LAURA. You say I'm bad, but who's made me so? Who took me out night
after night? Who showed me what these luxuries were? Who put me in the
habit of buying something I couldn't afford? You did.
WILL. Well, you liked it, didn't you?
LAURA. Who got me in debt, and then, when I wouldn't do what you
wanted me to, who had me discharged from the company, so I had no
means of living? Who followed me from one place to another? Who,
always entreating, tried to trap me into this life, and I didn't know
any better?
WILL. You didn't know any better?
LAURA. I knew it was wrong--yes; but you told me everybody in this
business did that sort of thing, and I was just as good as anyone
else. Finally you got me and you kept me. Then, when I went away to
Denver, and for the first time found a gleam of happiness, for the
first time in my life--
WILL. You're crazy.
LAURA. Yes, I am crazy. [_Rises angrily, crosses and sweeps
table-cover off table; crosses to dresser, knocks bottles, &c., off
upper end; turns, faces him, almost screaming._] You've made me crazy.
You followed me to Denver, and then when I got back you bribed me
again. You pulled me down, and you did the same old thing until this
happened. Now I want you to get out, you understand? I want you to get
out.
WILL. Laura, you can't do this. [_Starts to sit on trunk._
LAURA. [_Screaming, crossing to_ WILL; _she attempts to push him._]
No, you won't; you won't stay here. You're not going to do this thing
again. I tell you I'm going to be happy. I tell you I'm going to be
married. [_He doesn't resist her very strongly. Her anger and her rage
are entirely new to him. He is surprised and cannot understand._] You
won't see him; I tell you, you won't tell him. You've got no business
to. I hate you. I've hated you for months. I hate the sight of your
face. I've wanted to go, and now I'm going. You've got to go, do you
hear? You've got to get out--get out. [_Pushes him again._
WILL. [_Throwing her off;_ LAURA _staggers to armchair, rises, crosses
left._] What the hell is the use of fussing with a woman.
[_Exit._
LAURA. [_Hysterically._] I want to be happy, I'm going to be married,
I'm going to be happy.
[_Sinks down in exhausted state in front of trunk._
CURTAIN, SLOW.