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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:15 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:15 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/13050-0.txt b/13050-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f6d5c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/13050-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5404 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13050 *** + +THE EASIEST WAY + + + + +[Illustration: EUGENE WALTER] + + + + +EUGENE WALTER + +(Born, Cleveland, Ohio, November 27, 1874) + + +When questioned once regarding "The Easiest Way," Mr. Eugene Walter +said, "Incidentally, I do not think much of it. To my mind a good play +must have a tremendous uplift in thought and purpose. 'The Easiest +Way' has none of this. There is not a character in the play really +worth while, with the exception of the old agent. The rest, at best, +are not a particular adornment to society, and the strength of the +play lies in its true portrayal of the sordid type of life which it +expressed. As it is more or less purely photographic, I do not +think it should be given the credit of an inspiration--it is rather +devilishly clever, but a great work it certainly is not." + +Such was not the verdict of the first night audience, at the +Stuyvesant Theatre, New York, January 19, 1909. It was found to be +one of the most direct pieces of work the American stage had thus far +produced--disagreeably realistic, but purging--and that is the test of +an effective play--by the very poignancy of the tragic forces closing +in around the heroine. Though it is not as literary a piece of +dramatic expression as Pinero's "Iris," it is better in its effect; +because its relentlessness is due, not so predominantly to the moral +downgrade of the woman, as to the moral downgrade of a certain phase +of life which engulfs those nearest the centre of it. The play roused +a storm of comment; there were camps that took just the stand Mr. +Walter takes in the opening quotation. But the play is included in +this collection because its power, as a documentary report of a +phase of American stage life, is undeniable; because, as a piece of +workmanship, shorn of the usual devices called theatrical, it comes +down to the raw bone of the theme, and firmly progresses to its great +climax,--great in the sense of overpowering,--at the very fall of the +final curtain. + +Mr. Walter's various experiences in the theatre as an advance man, his +star reporting on the Detroit _News_, his struggles to gain a footing +in New York, contributed something to the bitter irony which runs as +a dark pattern through the texture of "The Easiest Way." He is one of +the many American dramatists who have come from the newspaper ranks, +having served on the Cleveland _Plain Dealer_ and _Press_, the New +York _Sun_ and _Globe_, the Cincinnati _Post_ and the Seattle _Star_. +Not many will disagree with the verdict that thus far he has not +excelled this play, though "Paid in Full" (February 25, 1908) +contains the same sting of modern life, which drives his characters to +situations dramatic and dire, making them sell their souls and their +peace of minds for the benefit of worldly ease and comfort. Note this +theme in "Fine Feathers" (January 7, 1913) and "Nancy Lee" (April 9, +1918). In this sense, his plays all possess a consistency which makes +no compromises. Arthur Ruhl, in his "Second Nights", refers to Walter +as of the "no quarter" school. He brings a certain manly subtlety to +bear on melodramatic subjects, as in "The Wolf" (April 18, 1908) and +"The Knife" (April 12, 1917); he seems to do as he pleases with his +treatment, as he did right at the start with his first successful +play. For, of "The Easiest Way" it may be said that, for the first +time in his managerial career, Mr. David Belasco agreed to accept +it with the condition that not a word of the manuscript should be +changed. + +It is interesting to note about Walter that, though he may now +repudiate it, "The Easiest Way" stands distinct in its class; perhaps +the dramatist has ripened more in technique--one immediately feels the +surety and vital grip of dramatic expertness in Walter, much more +so than in George Broadhurst, Bayard Veiller, or other American +dramatists of his class. But he has not surpassed "The Easiest Way" in +the burning intention with which it was written. + +As a dramatist, Walter adopts an interesting method; he tries out his +plays on the road, experimenting with various names, and re-casting +until ready for metropolitan production. His dramas have many +_aliases_, and it is a long case to prove an alibi; any student who +has attempted to settle dates will soon find that out. His military +play, written out of his experiences as a United States cavalryman in +the Spanish American War, was called "Boots and Saddles," after it +was given as "Sergeant James." "Fine Feathers," "The Knife," "The +Heritage," "Nancy Lee"--were all second or third choice as to name. + +In his advancement, Mr. Walter gives much credit to three American +managers--Kirke LaShelle, and the Selwyn brothers, Archie and Edgar. +It was the Selwyns who, during his various ventures in the "show +business," persuaded him to move to Shelter Island, and write "The +Undertow." It was in their house that "Paid in Full" was finished. Let +Mr. Walter continue the narrative: + + The circumstances under which "The Easiest Way" was written + are rather peculiar. When I was an advance-agent, ahead of + second-class companies, the need of money caused me to write a + one-act piece called "All the Way from Denver," which in time + I was able to dispose of. Later, after having written "Paid in + Full," I realized that in the play, "All the Way from Denver," + there was a situation or theme that might prove exceedingly + valuable in a four-act play. After discussing the + possibilities with Mr. Archie Selwyn, we concluded to write + it. In the meantime, the one-act piece had come into the + possession of Margaret Mayo, and through her, Mr. Edgar Selwyn + decided that the title should be "The Easiest Way" instead of + "All the Way from Denver." + + The play was then taken in its scenario form to Mr. C.B. + Dillingham, and discussed with him at length. This was prior + to the public presentation of "Paid in Full." I possessed + no particular reputation as a dramatic writer--in fact, the + Messrs. Selwyn--Archie and Edgar--were the only ones who took + me seriously, and thought me a possibility. Mr. Dillingham was + not particularly impressed with the piece, because he thought + it was much too broad in theme, and he did not like the idea + of slapping the managerial knuckles of the theatre. Further, + the obvious inference in "The Easiest Way," that _Laura_ was + kept out of work in order to be compelled to yield herself to + _Brockton_, was a point which did not appeal to him. However, + we had a working agreement with him, and later, Mr. Archie + Selwyn, in discussing the story of the play with Mr. David + Belasco, aroused his interest. The latter saw "Paid in Full" + and "The Wolf," and so he sent for me, with the result that + "The Easiest Way" was first produced in Hartford, Conn., on + December 31, 1908. Since its New York production, it has been + presented in nearly every country of the world. It has not + always met with commercial success, but it has always been + regarded as a play of representative importance. + +William Winter was one of the bitterest enemies of "The Easiest Way." +He placed it with "Zaza" and Brieux's "Three Daughters of M. Dupont." +As an opposite extreme view, we give the opinion of Mr. Walter Eaton, +written in 1909, concerning the play: "It places Mr. Walter as a +leader among our dramatists." In some respects, we may have surpassed +it since then, in imaginative ideality; but, as an example of +relentless realism, it still holds its own as a distinct contribution. +The text has been edited for private circulation, and it is this text +which is followed here. A few modifications, of a technical nature, +have been made in the stage directions; but even with these slight +changes, the directions are staccato, utilitarian in conciseness, +rather than literary in the Shaw sense. + + + + +DAVID BELASCO'S +STUYVESANT +THEATRE + +44th STREET +_near_ BROADWAY +_New York City_ + +Under the _sole_ +management of +DAVID BELASCO + +DAVID BELASCO +PRESENTS +FRANCES STARR +--IN-- +THE EASIEST WAY + +An American play concerning a peculiar phase of New York life. + +In Four Acts and Four Scenes. + +By EUGENE WALTER. + + +CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY + +JOHN MADISON EDWARD H. ROBINS + +WILLARD BROCKTON JOSEPH KILCOUR + +JIM WESTON WILLIAM SAMPSON + +LAURA MURDOCK FRANCES STARR + +ELFIE ST. CLAIR LAURA NELSON HALL + +ANNIE EMMA DUNN + +Program Continued on Second Page Following + +PROGRAM CONTINUED. + + * * * * * + +SYNOPSIS. + +ACT I.--Mrs. William's ranch house or country home, perched on +the side of the Ute Pass, near Colorado Springs, Colorado. +Time--Late in an August afternoon. + +ACT II.--Laura Murdock's furnished room, second story, back. +New York. +Time--Six months later. + +ACT III.--Laura Murdock's apartments in an expensive hotel. New +York. +Time--Two months later. In the morning. + +ACT IV.--The same at Act III. +Time--The same afternoon. + + * * * * * + +The play produced under the personal supervision of Mr. Belasco. + + * * * * * + +PROGRAM CONTINUED ON SECOND PAGE FOLLOWING. + + +PROGRAM CONTINUED. + +Stage Director William J. Dean +Stage Manager Langdon West + + * * * * * + +Stage decorations and accessories designed by Wilfred Buckland. + + * * * * * + +Scenes by Ernest Cross. + + * * * * * + + Scenery built by Charles J. Carson. + Electrical effects by Louis Harlman. +Gowns by Mollie O'Hara. Hats by Bendel. + + * * * * * + +The Pianola used is from the Aeolian Co., New York. + + + + +THE EASIEST WAY + +AN AMERICAN PLAY CONCERNING A + +PARTICULAR PHASE OF + +NEW YORK LIFE + +_IN FOUR ACTS AND FOUR SCENES_ + +By EUGENE WALTER + +1908 BY EUGENE WALTER + +[The Editor wishes to thank Mr. Eugene Walter for his courtesy in +granting permission to include "The Easiest Way" in the present +Collection. All its dramatic rights are fully secured, and proceedings +will immediately be taken against anyone attempting to infringe them.] + + + + +CHARACTERS. + +LAURA MURDOCK. +ELFIE ST. CLAIR. +ANNIE. +WILLARD BROCKTON. +JOHN MADISON. +JIM WESTON. + + + + +DESCRIPTION OF CHARACTERS. + + +LAURA MURDOCH, twenty-five years of age, is a type not uncommon in the +theatrical life of New York, and one which has grown in importance in +the profession since the business of giving public entertainments has +been so reduced to a commercial basis. + +At an early age she came from Australia to San Francisco. She +possessed a considerable beauty and an aptitude for theatrical +accomplishment which soon raised her to a position of more or less +importance in a local stock company playing in that city. A woman of +intense superficial emotions, her imagination was without any enduring +depths, but for the passing time she could place herself in an +attitude of great affection and devotion. Sensually, the woman had +marked characteristics, and, with the flattery that surrounded her, +she soon became a favourite in the select circles which made such +places as "The Poodle Dog" and "Zinkand's" famous. In general +dissipation, she was always careful not in any way to indulge in +excesses which would jeopardize her physical attractiveness, or for +one moment to diminish her sense of keen worldly calculation. + +In time she married. It was, of course, a failure. Her vacillating +nature was such that she could not be absolutely true to the man to +whom she had given her life, and, after several bitter experiences, +she had the horror of seeing him kill himself in front of her. There +was a momentary spasm of grief, a tidal wave of remorse, and then the +peculiar recuperation of spirits, beauty and attractiveness that +so marks this type of woman. She was deceived by other men in many +various ways, and finally came to that stage of life that is known in +theatrical circles as being "wised up." + +At nineteen, the attention of a prominent theatrical manager being +called to her, she took an important part in a New York production, +and immediately gained considerable reputation. The fact that, before +reaching the age of womanhood, she had had more escapades than most +women have in their entire lives was not generally known in New York, +nor was there a mark upon her face or a single coarse mannerism to +betray it. She was soft-voiced, very pretty, very girlish. Her keen +sense of worldly calculation led her to believe that in order to +progress in her theatrical career she must have some influence outside +of her art and dramatic accomplishment; so she attempted, with no +little success, to infatuate a hard-headed, blunt and supposedly +invincible theatrical manager, who, in his cold, stolid way, gave her +what love there was in him. This, however, not satisfying her, she +played two ends against the middle, and, finding a young man of wealth +and position who could give her, in his youth, the exuberance and +joy utterly apart from the character of the theatrical manager, she +adopted him, and for a while lived with him. Exhausting his money, she +cast him aside, always spending a certain part of the time with the +theatrical manager. The young man became crazed, and, at a restaurant, +tried to murder all of them. + +From that time up to the opening of the play, her career was a +succession of brilliant coups in gaining the confidence and love, +not to say the money, of men of all ages and all walks in life. Her +fascination was as undeniable as her insincerity of purpose. She +had never made an honest effort to be an honest woman, although she +imagined herself always persecuted, the victim of circumstances,--and +was always ready to excuse any viciousness of character which led her +into her peculiar difficulties. While acknowledged to be a mistress of +her business--that of acting--from a purely technical point of view, +her lack of sympathy, her abuse of her dramatic temperament in her +private affairs, had been such as to make it impossible for her +sincerely to impress audiences with real emotional power, and, +therefore, despite the influences which she always had at hand, she +remained a mediocre artist. + +At the time of the opening of our play, she has played a summer +engagement with a stock company in Denver, which has just ended. She +has met JOHN MADISON, a man of about twenty-seven years of age, whose +position is that of a dramatic critic on one of the local papers. +LAURA MURDOCH, with her usual wisdom, started to fascinate JOHN +MADISON, but has found that, for once in her life, she has met her +match. + +JOHN MADISON is good to look at, frank, virile, but a man of broad +experience, and not to be hoodwinked. For the first time LAURA MURDOCH +feels that the shoe is pinching the other foot, and, without any +possible indication of reciprocal affection, she has been slowly +falling desperately, madly, honestly and decently in love with him. +She has for the past two years been the special favourite and mistress +of WILLARD BROCKTON. The understanding is one of pure friendship. +He is a man who has a varied taste in the selection of his women; is +honest in a general way, and perfectly frank about his amours. He has +been most generous with LAURA MURDOCK, and his close relations with +several very prominent theatrical managers have made it possible for +him to secure her desirable engagements, generally in New York. With +all her past experiences, tragic and otherwise, LAURA MURDOCH has +found nothing equal to this sudden, this swiftly increasing, love for +the young Western man. At first she attempted to deceive him. Her baby +face, her masterful assumption of innocence and childlike devotion, +made no impression upon him. He has let her know in no uncertain way +that he knew her record from the day she stepped on American soil in +San Francisco to the time when she had come to Denver, but still he +liked her. + +JOHN MADISON is a peculiar type of the Western man. Up to the time of +his meeting LAURA, he had always been employed either in the mines +or on a newspaper west of the Mississippi River. He is one of those +itinerant reporters; to-day you might find him in Seattle, to-morrow +in Butte, the next week in Denver, and then possibly he would make +the circuit from Los Angeles to 'Frisco, and then all around again. +He drinks his whiskey straight, plays his faro fairly, and is not +particular about the women with whom he goes. He started life in +the Western country at an early age. His natural talents, both in +literature and in general adaptability to all conditions of life, +were early exhibited, but his _alma mater_ was the bar-room, and +the faculty of that college its bartenders and gamblers and general +habitués. + +He seldom has social engagements outside of certain disreputable +establishments, where a genial personality or an over-burdened +pocketbook gives _entrée_, and the rules of conventionality have +never even been whispered. His love affairs, confined to this class +of women, have seldom lasted more than a week or ten days. His editors +know him as a brilliant genius, irresponsible, unreliable, but at +times inestimably valuable. He cares little for personal appearance +beyond a certain degree of neatness. He is quick on the trigger, and +in a time of over-heated argument can go some distance with his fists; +in fact, his whole career is best described as "happy-go-lucky." + +He realizes fully his ability to do almost anything fairly well, and +some things especially well, but he has never tried to accomplish +anything beyond the earning of a comfortable living. Twenty-five or +thirty dollars a week was all he needed. With that he could buy his +liquor, treat his women, sometimes play a little faro, sit up all +night and sleep all day, and in general lead the life of good-natured +vagabondage which has always pleased him and which he had chosen as a +career. + +The objection of safer and saner friends to this form of livelihood +was always met by him with a slap on the back and a laugh. "Don't you +worry about me, partner; if I'm going to hell I'm going there with +bells on," was always his rejoinder; and yet, when called upon to +cover some great big news story, or report some vital event, he +settled down to his work with a steely determination and a grim joy +that resulted in work which classified him as a genius. Any great +mental effort of this character, any unusual achievement along these +lines, would be immediately followed by a protracted debauch that +would upset him physically and mentally for weeks at a time, but he +always recovered and landed on his feet, and with the same laugh and +smile again went at his work. + +If there have been opportunities to meet decent women of good social +standing, he has always thrown them aside with the declaration that +they bore him to death, and there never had entered into his heart a +feeling or idea of real affection until he met LAURA. He fell for a +moment under the spell of her fascination, and then, with cold logic, +he analyzed her, and found out that, while outwardly she had +every sign of girlhood,--ingenuousness, sweetness of character and +possibility of affection,--spiritually and mentally she was nothing +more than a moral wreck. He observed keenly her efforts to win him and +her disappointment at her failure--not that she cared so much for him +personally, but that it hurt her vanity not to be successful with +this good-for-nothing, good-natured vagabond, when men of wealth and +position she made kneel at her feet. He observed her slowly-changing +point of view: how from a kittenish ingenuousness she became serious, +womanly, really sincere. He knew that he had awakened in her her first +decent affection, and he knew that she was awakening in him his first +desire to do things and be big and worth while. So together these +two began to drift toward a path of decent dealing, decent ambition, +decent thought, and decent love, until at last they both find +themselves, and acknowledge all the wickedness of what had been, and +plan for all the virtue and goodness of what is to be. It is at this +point that our first act begins. + +ELFIE ST. CLAIR is a type of a Tenderloin grafter in New York, who, +after all, has been more sinned against than sinning; who, having been +imposed upon, deceived, ill-treated and bulldozed by the type of men +who prey on women in New York, has turned the tables, and with her +charm and her beauty has gone out to make the same slaughter of the +other sex as she suffered with many of her sisters. + +She is a woman without a moral conscience, whose entire life is +dictated by a small mental operation. Coming to New York as a +beautiful girl, she entered the chorus. She became famous for her +beauty. On every hand were the stage-door vultures ready to give her +anything that a woman's heart could desire, from clothes to horses, +carriages, money and what-not; but, with a girl-like instinct, she +fell in love with a man connected with the company, and, during +all the time she might have profited and become a rich woman by the +attentions of these outsiders, she remained true to her love, until +finally her fame as the beauty of the city had waned. The years told +on her to a certain extent, and there were others coming, as young as +she had been and as good to look at; and, where the automobile of the +millionaire had once been waiting for her, she found that, through her +faithfulness to her lover, it was now there for some one else. Yet she +was content with her joys, until finally the man deliberately jilted +her and left her alone. + +What had gone of her beauty had been replaced by a keen knowledge of +human nature and of men, so she determined to give herself up entirely +to a life of gain. She knows just how much champagne should be +drunk without injuring one's health. She knows just what physical +necessities should be indulged in to preserve to the greatest degree +her remaining beauty. There is no trick of the hair-dresser, the +modiste, the manicurist, or any one of the legion of people who devote +their time to aiding the outward fascinations of women, which she does +not know. She knows exactly what perfumes to use, what stockings +to wear, how she should live, how far she should indulge in any +dissipation; and all this she has determined to devote to profit. She +knows that as an actress she has no future; that the time of a woman's +beauty is limited. Conscious that she has already lost the youthful +litheness of figure which had made her so fascinating in the past, +she has laid aside every sentiment, physical and spiritual, and +has determined to choose a man as her companion who has the biggest +bank-roll and the most liberal nature. His age, his station in life, +the fact whether she likes or dislikes him, do not enter into this +scheme at all. She figures that she has been made a fool of by men, +and that there is only one revenge,--the accumulation of a fortune to +make her independent of them once and for all. There are, of course, +certain likes and dislikes that she enjoys, and in a way she indulges +them. There are men whose company she cares for, but their association +is practically sexless and has come down to a point of mere good +fellowship. + +WILLARD BROCKTON, a New York broker, is an honest sensualist, and when +one says an honest sensualist, the meaning is--a man who has none +of the cad in his character, who takes advantage of no one, and who +allows no one to take advantage of him. He honestly detests any man +who takes advantage of a pure woman. He detests any man who deceives a +woman. He believes that there is only one way to go through life, +and that is to be frank with those with whom one deals. He is a +master-hand in stock manipulation, and in the questionable practises +of Wall Street he has realized that he has to play his cunning and +craft against the cunning and craft of others. He is not at all in +sympathy with this mode of living, but he thinks it is the only +method by which he can succeed in life. He measures success by the +accumulation of money, but he considers his business career as a thing +apart from his private existence. + +He does not associate, to any great extent, with what is known as +"society." He keeps in touch with it simply to maintain his business +position. There is always an inter-relationship among the rich in +business and private life, and he gives such entertainments as are +necessary to the members of New York's exclusive set, simply to make +certain his relative position with other successful Wall Street men. + +As far as women are concerned, the particular type of actress, such as +LAURA MURDOCH and ELFIE ST. CLAIR, appeals to him. He likes their good +fellowship. He loves to be with a gay party at night in a café. He +likes the rather looseness of living which does not quite reach the +disreputable. Behind all this, however, is a certain high sense of +honour. He detests and despises the average stage-door Johnny, and +he loathes the type of man who seeks to take young girls out of +theatrical companies for their ruin. + +His women friends are as wise as himself. When they enter into an +agreement with him there is no deception. In the first place he wants +to like them; in the second place he wants them to like him; and +finally, he wants to fix the amount of their living expenses at +a definite figure, and have them stand by it. He wants them to +understand that he reserves the right, at any time, to withdraw his +support, or transfer it to some other woman, and he gives them the +same privilege. + +He is always ready to help anyone who is unfortunate, and he has +always hoped that some of these girls whom he knew would finally come +across the right man, marry and settle down; but he insists that such +an arrangement can be possible only by the honest admission on the +woman's part of what she has done and been, and by the thorough +understanding of all these things by the man involved. He is gruff in +his manner, determined in his purposes, honest in his point of view. +He is a brute, almost a savage, but he is a thoroughly good brute and +a pretty decent savage. + +At the time of the opening of this play, he and LAURA MURDOCK have +been friends for two years. He knows exactly what she is and what she +has been, and their relations are those of pals. She has finished her +season in Denver, and he has come out there to accompany her home. +He has always told her, whenever she felt it inconsistent with her +happiness to continue her relations with him, it is her privilege to +quit, and he has reserved the same condition. + +JIM WESTON, between forty-five and fifty years of age, is the type +of the semi-broken-down showman. In the evolution of the theatrical +business in America, the old circus and minstrel men have gradually +been pushed aside, while younger men, with more advanced methods, have +taken their place. The character is best realized by the way it is +drawn in the play. + +ANNIE. The only particular attention that should be called to the +character of the negress, ANNIE, who is the servant of LAURA, is the +fact that she must not in any way represent the traditional smiling +coloured girl or "mammy" of the South. She is the cunning, crafty, +heartless, surly, sullen Northern negress, who, to the number of +thousands, are servants of women of easy morals, and who infest a +district of New York in which white and black people of the lower +classes mingle indiscriminately, and which is one of the most criminal +sections of the city. The actress who plays this part must keep in +mind its innate and brutal selfishness. + + + + +SYNOPSIS. + + +ACT I. Mrs. Williams' Ranch House or Country Home, perched on the side +of Ute Pass, near Colorado Springs, Colorado. + +TIME. Late in an August afternoon. + + +ACT II. Laura Murdock's furnished Room, second story back, New York. + +TIME. Six months later. + + +ACT III. Laura Murdock's Apartments in an expensive Hotel. + +TIME. Two months later. In the morning. + + +ACT IV. Laura Murdock's Apartments. The same as Act III. + +TIME. The afternoon of the same day. + + + + +THE EASIEST WAY + +ACT I. + + +SCENE. _The scene is that of the summer country ranch house of_ MRS. +WILLIAMS, _a friend of_ LAURA MURDOCK'S, _and a prominent society +woman of Denver, perched on the side of Ute Pass, near Colorado +Springs. The house is one of unusual pretentiousness, and, to a person +not conversant with conditions as they exist in this part of Colorado, +the idea might be that such magnificence could not obtain in such +a locality. At the left of stage the house rises in the form of a +turret, built of rough stone of a brown hue, two stories high, and +projecting a quarter of the way out on the stage. The door leads to a +small elliptical terrace built of stone, with heavy benches of Greek +design, strewn cushions, while over the top of one part of this +terrace is suspended a canopy made from a Navajo blanket. The terrace +is supposed to extend almost to the right of stage, and here it stops. +The stage must be cut here so that the entrance of_ JOHN _can give the +illusion that he is coming up a steep declivity or a long flight of +stairs. There are chairs at right and left, and a small table at left. +There are trailing vines around the balustrade of the terrace, and +the whole setting must convey the idea of quiet wealth. Up stage is +supposed to be the part of the terrace overlooking the cañon, a sheer +drop of two thousand feet, while over in the distance, as if across +the cañon, one can see the rolling foot-hills and lofty peaks of the +Rockies, with Pike's Peak in the distance, snow-capped and colossal. +It is late in the afternoon, and, as the scene progresses, the quick +twilight of a cañon, beautiful in its tints of purple and amber, +becomes later pitch black, and the curtain goes down on an absolutely +black stage. The cyclorama, or semi-cyclorama, must give the +perspective of greater distances, and be so painted that the various +tints of twilight may be shown_. + +AT RISE. LAURA MURDOCK _is seen leaning a bit over the balustrade of +the porch and shielding her eyes with her hand from the late afternoon +sun, as she seemingly looks up the Pass to the left, as if expecting +the approach of someone. Her gown is simple, girlish and attractive, +and made of summery, filmy stuff. Her hair is done up in the simplest +fashion, with a part in the centre, and there is about her every +indication of an effort to assume that girlishness of demeanour which +has been her greatest asset through life_. WILLARD BROCKTON _enters; +he is a man six feet or more in height, stocky in build, clean-shaven +and immaculately dressed. He is smoking a cigar, and upon +entering takes one step forward and looks over toward_ LAURA _in a +semi-meditative manner_. + +WILL. Blue? + +LAURA. No. + +WILL. What's up? + +LAURA. Nothing. + +WILL. A little preoccupied. + +LAURA. Perhaps. + +WILL. What's up that way? + +LAURA. Which way? + +WILL. The way you are looking. + +LAURA. The road from Manitou Springs. They call it the trail out here. + +WILL. I know that. You know I've done a lot of business west of the +Missouri. + +LAURA. [_With a half-sigh_.] No, I didn't know it. + +WILL. Oh, yes; south of here in the San Juan country. Spent a couple +of years there once. + +LAURA. [_Still without turning_.] That's interesting. + +WILL. It was then. I made some money there. It's always interesting +when you make money. Still-- + +LAURA. [_Still leaning in an absent-minded attitude_.] Still what? + +WILL. Can't make out why you have your eyes glued on that road. +Someone coming? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. One of Mrs. Williams' friends, eh? [_Will crosses, and sits on +seat_. + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. Yours too? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. Man? + +LAURA. Yes, a _real_ man. + +WILL. [_Catches the significance of this speech. He carelessly throws +the cigar over the balustrade. He comes down and leans on chair with +his back to_ LAURA. _She has not moved more than to place her left +hand on a cushion and lean her head rather wearily against it, looking +steadfastly up the Pass_.] A real man. By that you mean-- + +LAURA. Just that--a real man. + +WILL. Any difference from the many you have known? + +LAURA. Yes, from all I have known. + +WILL. So that is why you didn't come into Denver to meet me to-day, +but left word for me to come out here? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. I thought that I was pretty decent to take a dusty ride half-way +across the continent in order to keep you company on your way back to +New York, and welcome you to our home; but maybe I had the wrong idea. + +LAURA. Yes, I think you had the wrong idea. + +WILL. In love, eh? + +LAURA. Yes, just that,--in love. + +WILL. A new sensation. + +LAURA. No; the first conviction. + +WILL. You have had that idea before. Every woman's love is the real +one when it comes. [_Crosses up to_ LAURA.] Do you make a distinction +in this case, young lady? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. For instance, what? + +LAURA. This man is poor--absolutely broke. He hasn't even got a +[_Crosses to armchair, leans over and draws with parasol on ground_.] +good job. You know, Will, all the rest, including yourself, generally +had some material inducement. + +WILL. What's his business? [_Crosses to table and sits looking at +magazine_. + +LAURA. He's a newspaper man. + +WILL. H'm-m. Romance? + +LAURA. Yes, if you want to call it that,--romance. + +WILL. Do I know him? + +LAURA. How could you? You only came from New York to-day, and he has +never been there. + +_He regards her with a rather amused, indulgent, almost paternal +expression, in contrast to his big, bluff, physical personality, with +his iron-gray hair and his bulldog expression_. LAURA _looks +more girlish than ever. This is imperative in order to thoroughly +understand the character_. + +WILL. How old is he? + +LAURA. Twenty-seven. You're forty-five. + +WILL. No, forty-six. + +LAURA. Shall I tell you about him? Huh? + +[_Crosses to_ WILL, _placing parasol on seat_. + +WILL. That depends. + +LAURA. On what? + +WILL. Yourself. + +LAURA. In what way? + +WILL. If it will interfere in the least with the plans I have made for +you and for me. + +LAURA. And have you made any particular plans for me that have +anything particularly to do with you? + +WILL. Yes, I have given up the lease of our apartment on West End +Avenue, and I've got a house on Riverside Drive. Everything will be +quiet and decent, and it'll be more comfortable for you. There's a +stable near by, and your horses and car can be kept over there. You'll +be your own mistress, and besides I've fixed you up for a new part. + +LAURA. A new part! What kind of a part? + +WILL. One of Charlie Burgess's shows, translated from some French +fellow. It's been running over in Paris, Berlin, and Vienna, and all +those places, for a year or more, and appears to be an awful hit. It's +going to cost a lot of money. I told Charlie he could put me down +for a half interest, and I'd give all the money providing you got +an important rôle. Great part, I'm told. Kind of a cross between a +musical comedy and an opera. Looks as if it might stay in New York all +season. So that's the change of plan. How does it strike you? + +[LAURA _crosses to door, meditating; pauses in thought_. + +LAURA. I don't know. + +WILL. Feel like quitting? [_Turns to her._ + +LAURA. I can't tell. + +WILL. It's the newspaper man, eh? + +LAURA. That would be the only reason. + +WILL. You've been on the square with me this summer, haven't you? +[_Crosses to table_. + +LAURA. [_Turns, looks at_ WILL.] What do you mean by "on the square?" + +WILL. Don't evade. There's only one meaning when I say that, and you +know it. I'm pretty liberal. But you understand where I draw the line. +You've not jumped that, have you, Laura? + +LAURA. No, this has been such a wonderful summer, such a wonderfully +different summer. Can you understand what I mean by that when I say +"wonderfully different summer?" + +[_Crossing to WILL_. + +WILL. Well, he's twenty-seven and broke, and you're twenty-five and +pretty; and he evidently, being a newspaper man, has that peculiar +gift of gab that we call romantic expression. So I guess I'm not +blind, and you both think you've fallen in love. That it? + +LAURA. Yes, I think that's about it; only I don't agree to the "gift +of gab" and the "romantic" end of it. [_Crosses to table_.] He's a man +and I'm a woman, and we both have had our experiences. I don't think, +Will, that there can be much of that element of what some folks call +hallucination. + +[_Sits on chair; takes candy-box on lap; selects candy_. + +WILL. Then the Riverside Drive proposition and Burgess's show is off, +eh? + +LAURA. I didn't say that. + +WILL. And if you go back on the Overland Limited day after to-morrow, +you'd just as soon I'd go to-morrow of wait until the day after you +leave? [LAURA _places candy-box back on table_. + +LAURA. I didn't say that, either. + +WILL. What's the game? + +LAURA. I can't tell you now. + +WILL. Waiting for him to come? [_Crosses, sits on seat_. + +LAURA. Exactly. + +WILL. Think he is going to make a proposition, eh? + +LAURA. I know he is. + +WILL. Marriage? + +LAURA. Possibly. + +WILL. You've tried that once, and taken the wrong end. Are you going +to play the same game again? + +LAURA. Yes, but with a different card. + +[_Picks up magazine off table_. + +WILL. What's his name? + +LAURA. Madison--John Madison. + +[_Slowly turning pages of magazine_. + +WILL. And his job? + +LAURA. Reporter. + +WILL. What are you going to live on,--the extra editions? + +LAURA. No, we're young, there's plenty of time. I can work in the +meantime, and so can he; and then with his ability and my ability +it will only be a matter of a year or two when things will shape +themselves to make it possible. + +WILL. Sounds well--a year off. + +LAURA. If I thought you were going to make fun of me, Will, I +shouldn't have talked to you. + +[_Throws down magazine, crosses to door of house_. + +WILL. [_Crossing down in front of table_.] I don't want to make fun of +you, but you must realize that after two years it isn't an easy thing +to be dumped with so little ceremony. Maybe you have never given +me any credit for possessing the slightest feeling, but even I can +receive shocks from other sources than a break in the market. + +LAURA. [_Crosses to_ WILL.] It isn't easy for me to do this. You've +been awfully kind, awfully considerate, but when I went to you it was +just with the understanding that we were to be pals. You reserved the +right then to quit me whenever you felt like it, and you gave me the +same privilege. Now, if some girl came along who really captivated +you in the right way, and you wanted to marry, it would hurt me a +little,--maybe a lot,--but I should never forget that agreement +we made, a sort of two weeks' notice clause, like people have in +contracts. + +WILL. [_Is evidently very much moved. Walks up stage to right end of +seat, looks over the cañon_. LAURA _looks after him_. WILL _has his +back to the audience. Long pause_.] I'm not hedging, Laura. If that's +the way you want it to be, I'll stand by just exactly what I said +[_Turns to_ LAURA.], but I'm fond of you, a damn sight fonder than I +thought I was, now that I find you slipping away; but if this young +fellow is on the square [LAURA _crosses to_ WILL, _taking his right +hand_.] and he has youth and ability, and you've been on the square +with him, why, all right. Your life hasn't had much in it to help you +get a diploma from any celestial college, and if you can start out +now and be a good girl, have a good husband, and maybe some day good +children [LAURA _sighs_.], why, I'm not going to stand in the way. +Only I don't want you to make any of those mistakes that you made +before. + +LAURA. I know, but somehow I feel that this time the real thing has +come, and with it the real man. I can't tell you, Will, how much +different it is, but everything I felt before seems so sort of +earthly--and somehow this love that I have for this man is so +different. It's made me want to be truthful and sincere and humble +for the first time in my life. The only other thing I ever had that I +cared the least bit about, now that I look back, was your friendship. +We have been good pals, haven't we? + +[_Puts arms about_ WILL. + +WILL. Yes, it's been a mighty good two years for me. I was always +proud to take you around, because I think you one of the prettiest +things in New York [LAURA _crosses and girlishly jumps into +armchair._], and that helps some, and you're always jolly, and you +never complained. You always spent a lot of money, but it was a +pleasure to see you spend it; and then you never offended me. Most +women offend men by coming around looking untidy and sort of unkempt, +but somehow you always knew the value of your beauty, and you always +dressed up. I always thought that maybe some day the fellow would come +along, grab you, and make you happy in a nice way, but I thought +that he'd have to have a lot of money. You know you've lived a rather +extravagant life for five years, Laura. It won't be an easy job to +come down to cases and suffer for the little dainty necessities you've +been used to. + +LAURA. I've thought all about that, and I think I understand. + +[_Facing audience; leaning elbows on lap._ + +WILL. You know if you were working without anybody's help, Laura, you +might have a hard time getting a position. As an actress you're only +fair. + +LAURA. You needn't remind me of that. That part of my life is my own. +[_Crosses up to seat._] I don't want you to start now and make it +harder for me to do the right thing. It isn't fair; it isn't square; +and it isn't right. You've got to let me go my own way. [_Crosses to_ +WILL; _puts right hand on his shoulder._] I'm sorry to leave you, in +a way, but I want you to know that if I go with John it changes the +spelling of the word comradeship into love, and mistress into wife. +Now please don't talk any more. [_Crosses to post; takes scarf off +chair._ + +WILL. Just a word. Is it settled? + +LAURA. [_Impatiently._] I said I didn't know. I would know +to-day--that's what I'm waiting for. Oh, I don't see why he doesn't +come. [WILL _turns up to seat looking over Pass._ + +WILL. [_Pointing up the Pass._] Is that the fellow coming up here? + +LAURA. [_Quickly running toward the balustrade of seat, saying as she +goes_:] Where? [_Kneels on seat_. + +WILL. [_Pointing_.] Up the road there. On that yellow horse. + +LAURA. [_Looking_.] Yes, that's John. [_She waves her handkerchief, +and putting one hand to her mouth cries_:] Hello! + +JOHN. [_Off stage with the effect as if he was on the road winding up +toward the house_.] Hello yourself! + +LAURA. [_Same effect_.] Hurry up, you're late. + +JOHN. [_Same effect, a little louder_.] Better late than never. + +LAURA. [_Same effect_.] Hurry up. + +JOHN. [_Little louder_.] Not with this horse. + +LAURA. [_To_ WILL, _with enthusiastic expression_.] Now, Will, does he +look like a yellow reporter? + +WILL. [_With a sort of sad smile_.] He _is_ a good-looking chap. + +LAURA. [_Looking down again at_ JOHN.] Oh, he's just simply more than +that. [_Turns quickly to_ WILL.] Where's Mrs. Williams? + +WILL. [_Motioning with thumb toward left side of ranch house_.] +Inside, I guess, up to her neck in bridge. + +LAURA. [_Goes hurriedly over to door_.] Mrs. Williams! Oh, Mrs. +Williams! + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Heard off stage_.] What is it, my dear? + +LAURA. Mr. Madison is coming up the path. + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Off stage_.] That's good. + +LAURA. Sha'n't you come and see him? + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Same_.] Lord, no! I'm six dollars and twenty cents +out now, and up against an awful streak of luck. + +LAURA. Shall I give him some tea? + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Same_.] Yes, do, dear; and tell him to cross his +fingers when he thinks of me. + +_In the meantime_ WILL _has leaned over the balustrade, evidently +surveying the young man, who is supposed to be coming up the, path, +with a great deal of interest. Underneath his stolid, businesslike +demeanour of squareness, there is undoubtedly within his heart a very +great affection for_ LAURA. _He realizes that during her whole career +he has been the only one who has influenced her absolutely. Since the +time they lived together, he has always dominated, and he has always +endeavoured to lead her along a path that meant the better things of a +Bohemian existence. His coming all the way from New York to Denver to +accompany_ LAURA _home was simply another example of his keen interest +in the woman, and he suddenly finds that she has drifted away from him +in a manner to which he could not in the least object, and that she +had been absolutely fair and square in her agreement with him._ WILL +_is a man who, while rough and rugged in many ways, possesses many of +the finer instincts of refinement, latent though they may be, and +his meeting with_ JOHN _ought, therefore, to show much significance, +because on his impressions of the young man depend the entire +justification of his attitude in the play._ + +LAURA. [_Turning toward_ WILL _and going to him, slipping her hand +involuntarily through his arm, and looking eagerly with him over the +balustrade in almost girlish enthusiasm._] Do you like him? + +WILL. [_Smiling_.] I don't know him. + +LAURA. Well, do you think you'll like him? + +WILL. Well, I hope I'll like him. + +LAURA. Well, if you hope you'll like him you ought to think you like +him. He'll turn the corner of that rock in just a minute and then you +can see him. Do you want to see him? + +WILL. [_Almost amused at her girlish manner._] Why, yes--do you? + +LAURA. Do I? Why, I haven't seen him since last night! There he is. +[_Waves her hand._] Hello, John! + +[_Gets candy-box, throws pieces of candy at_ JOHN. + +JOHN. [_His voice very close now_.] Hello, girlie! How's everything? + +LAURA. Fine! Do hurry. + +JOHN. Just make this horse for a minute. Hurry is not in his +dictionary. + +LAURA. I'm coming down to meet you. + +JOHN. All--right. + +LAURA. [_Turns quickly to_ WILL.] You don't care. You'll wait, won't +you? + +WILL. Surely. + +LAURA _hurriedly exits._ WILL _goes down centre of the stage. After +a short interval_ LAURA _comes in, more like a sixteen-year-old girl +than anything else, pulling_ JOHN _after her. He is a tall, finely +built type of Western manhood, a frank face, a quick, nervous energy, +a mind that works like lightning, a prepossessing smile, and a +personality that is wholly captivating. His clothes are a bit dusty +from the ride, but are not in the least pretentious, and his leggins +are of canvas and spurs of brass, such as are used in the Army. His +hat is off, and he is pulled on to the stage, more like a great +big boy than a man. His hair is a bit tumbled, and he shows every +indication of having had a rather long and hard ride_. + +LAURA. Hello, John! + +JOHN. Hello, girlie! + +_Then she suddenly recovers herself and realizes the position she +is in. Both men measure each other for a moment in silence, neither +flinching the least bit. The smile has faded from_ JOHN'S _face, and +the mouth droops into an expression of firm determination._ LAURA _for +a moment loses her ingenuousness. She is the least bit frightened at +finally placing the two men face to face, and in a voice that trembles +slightly from apprehension_: + +LAURA. Oh, I beg your pardon! Mr. Madison, this is Mr. Brockton, a +friend of mine from New York. You've often heard me speak of him; he +came out here to keep me company when I go home. + +JOHN. [_Comes forward, extends a hand, looking_ WILL _right in the +eye._] I am very glad to know you, Mr. Brockton. + +WILL. Thank you. + +JOHN. I've heard a great deal about you and your kindness to +Miss Murdock. Anything that you have done for her in a spirit of +friendliness I am sure all her friends must deeply appreciate, and I +count myself in as one. + +WILL. [_In an easy manner that rather disarms the antagonistic +attitude of_ JOHN.] Then we have a good deal in common, Mr. Madison, +for I also count Miss Murdock a friend, and when two friends of a +friend have the pleasure of meeting, I dare say that's a pretty good +foundation for them to become friends too. + +JOHN. Possibly. Whatever my opinion may have been of you, Mr. +Brockton, before you arrived, now I have seen you--and I'm a man who +forms his conclusions right off the bat--I don't mind telling you that +you've agreeably surprised me. That's just a first impression, but +they run kind o' strong with me. + +WILL. Well, young man, I size up a fellow in pretty short order, and +all things being equal, I think you'll do. + +LAURA. [_Radiantly._] Shall I get the tea? + +JOHN. Tea! + +LAURA. Yes, tea. You know it must be tea--nothing stronger. + +[_Crosses to door._ + +JOHN. [_Looking at_ WILL _rather comically._] How strong are you for +that tea, Mr. Brockton? + +WILL. I'll pass; it's your deal, Mr. Madison. + +JOHN. Mine! No, deal me out this hand. + +LAURA. I don't think you're at all pleasant, but I'll tell you one +thing--it's tea this deal or no game. + +[_Crosses up stage to seat, picks up magazine, turns pages._ + +WILL. No game then [_Crosses to door._], and I'm going to help Mrs. +Williams; maybe she's lost nearly seven dollars by this time, and I'm +an awful dub when it comes to bridge. [_Exit._ + +LAURA. [_Tossing magazine on to seat, crosses quickly to_ JOHN, +_throws her arms around his neck in the most loving manner._] John! + +_As the Act progresses the shadows cross the Pass, and golden light +streams across the lower hills and tops the snow-clad peaks. It +becomes darker and darker, the lights fade to beautiful opalescent +hues, until, when the curtain falls on the act, with_ JOHN _and_ WILL +_on the scene, it is pitch dark, a faint glow coming out of the door. +Nothing else can be seen but the glow of the ash on the end of +each man's cigar as he puffs it in silent meditation on their +conversation._ + +JOHN. Well, dear? + +LAURA. Are you going to be cross with me? + +JOHN. Why? + +LAURA. Because he came? + +JOHN. Brockton? + +LAURA. Yes. + +JOHN. You didn't know, did you? + +LAURA. Yes, I did. + +JOHN. That he was coming? + +LAURA. He wired me when he reached Kansas City. + +JOHN. Does he know? + +LAURA. About us? + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. I've told him. + +JOHN. When? + +LAURA. To-day. + +JOHN. Here? + +LAURA. Yes. + +JOHN. With what result? + +LAURA. I think it hurt him. + +JOHN. Naturally. + +LAURA. More than I had any idea it would. + +JOHN. I'm sorry. [_Sits in armchair_. + +LAURA. He cautioned me to be very careful and to be sure I knew my +way. + +JOHN. That was right. + +LAURA _gets a cushion in each hand off seat; crosses down to left of +armchair, throws one cushion on ground, then the other on top of +it, and kneels beside his chair. Piano in house playing a Chopin +Nocturne_. + +LAURA. John. + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. We've been very happy all summer. + +JOHN. Very. + +LAURA. [_Rises, sits on left arm of chair, her arm over back_.] And +this thing has gradually been growing on us? + +JOHN. That's true. + +LAURA. I didn't think that, when I came out here to Denver to play in +a little stock company, it was going to bring me all this happiness, +but it has, hasn't it? + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. [_Changing her position, sits on his lap, arms around his +neck_.] And now the season's over and there is nothing to keep me in +Colorado, and I've got to go back to New York to work. + +JOHN. I know; I've been awake all night thinking about it. + +LAURA. Well? + +JOHN. Well? + +LAURA. What are we going to do? + +JOHN. Why, you've got to go, I suppose. + +LAURA. Is it good-bye? + +JOHN. For a while, I suppose--it's good-bye. + +LAURA. What do you mean by a while? + +[LAURA _turns_ JOHN'S _face to her, looks at him searchingly_. + +JOHN. Until [_Piano plays crescendo, then softens down_.] I get money +enough together, and am making enough to support you, then come and +take you out of the show business and make you Mrs. Madison. + +LAURA _tightens her arm around his neck, her cheek goes close to his +own, and all the wealth of affection the woman is capable of at times +is shown. She seems more like a dainty little kitten purring close to +its master. Her whole thought and idea seem to be centred on the man +whom she professes to love._ + +LAURA. John, that is what I want above everything else. + +JOHN. But, Laura, we must come to some distinct understanding before +we start to make our plans. We're not children. + +LAURA. No, we're not. + +JOHN. Now in the first place [LAURA _rises, crosses to centre._] we'll +discuss you, and in the second place we'll discuss me. We'll keep +nothing from each other [LAURA _picks up cushions, places them on +seat._], and we'll start out on this campaign [LAURA _turns back to +centre, facing audience._] of decency and honour, fully understanding +its responsibilities, without a chance of a come-back on either side. + +LAURA. [_Becoming very serious._] You mean that we should tell each +other all about each other, so, no matter what's ever said about us by +other people, we'll know it first? + +JOHN. [_Rising._] That's precisely what I'm trying to get at. + +LAURA. Well, John, there are so many things I don't want to speak of +even to you. It isn't easy for a woman to go back and dig up a lot +of ugly memories and try to excuse them. [_Crosses to front of table, +picks up magazine, places it on table_. + +JOHN. I've known everything from the first; how you came to San +Francisco as a kid and got into the show business, and how you went +wrong, and then how you married, still a kid, and how your husband +didn't treat you exactly right, and then how, in a fit of drunkenness, +he came home and shot himself. [LAURA _buries her head in her hands, +making exclamations of horror._ JOHN _crosses to her as if sorry for +hurting her; touches her on shoulder._] But that's all past now, and +we can forget that. And I know how you were up against it after that, +how tough it was for you to get along. Then finally how you've lived, +and--and that you and this man Brockton have been--well--never mind. +I've known it all for months, and I've watched you. Now, Laura, the +habit of life is a hard thing to get away from. You've lived in this +way for a long time. If I ask you to be my wife you'll have to give it +up; you'll have to go back to New York and struggle on your own hook +until I get enough to come for you. I don't know how long that will +be, but it _will_ be. Do you love me enough to stick out for the right +thing? + +LAURA _crosses to him, puts her arms around him, kisses him once very +affectionately, looks at him very earnestly_. + +LAURA. Yes. I think this is my one great chance. I do love you and I +want to do just what you said. + +JOHN. I think you will. I'm going to make the same promise. Your life, +dear girl, has been an angel's compared with mine. I've drank whiskey, +played bank, and raised hell ever since the time I could develop +a thirst; and ever since I've been able to earn my own living I've +abused every natural gift God gave me. The women I've associated with +aren't good enough to touch the hem of your skirt, but they liked +me, and [JOHN _crosses to armchair, turns up stage, then faces her_.] +well--I must have liked them. My life hasn't been exactly loose, it's +been all in pieces. I've never done anything dishonest. I've always +gone wrong just for the fun of it, until I met you. [_Crosses to +her, takes her in his arms_.] Somehow then I began to feel that I was +making an awful waste of myself. + +LAURA. John! + +JOHN. Some lovers place a woman on a pedestal and say, "She never has +made a mistake." [_Taking her by each arm he playfully shakes her_.] +Well, we don't need any pedestals. I just know you never will make a +mistake. + +LAURA. [_Kissing him_.] John, I'll never make you take those words +back. [_Arms around his neck_. + +JOHN. That goes double. You're going to cut out the cabs and cafés, +and I'm going to cut out the whiskey and all-night sessions [LAURA +_releases him; he backs slightly away_.]; and you're going to be +somebody and I'm going to be somebody, and if my hunch is worth the +powder to blow it up, we're going to show folks things they never +thought were in us. Come on now, kiss me. + +_She kisses him; tears are in her eyes. He looks into her face with a +quaint smile_. + +JOHN. You're on, ain't you, dear? + +LAURA. Yes, I'm on. + +JOHN. Then [_Points toward door with his left arm over her shoulder_.] +call him. + +LAURA. Brockton? + +JOHN. Yes, and tell him you go back to New York without any travelling +companion this season. + +LAURA. Now? + +JOHN. Sure. + +LAURA. You want to hear me tell him? + +JOHN. [_With a smile_.] We're partners, aren't we? I ought to be in on +any important transaction like that, but it's just as you say. + +LAURA. I think it would be right you should. I'll call him now. + +JOHN. All right. [_Crossing to stairway_. LAURA _crosses to door; +twilight is becoming very much more pronounced_. + +LAURA. [_At door_.] Mr. Brockton! Oh, Mr. Brockton! + +WILL. [_Off stage_.] Yes. + +LAURA. Can you spare a moment to come out here? + +WILL. Just a moment. + +LAURA. You must come now. + +WILL. All right. [_She waits for him and after a reasonable interval +he appears at door_.] Laura, it's a shame to lure me away from that +mad speculation in there. I thought I might make my fare back to New +York if I played until next summer. What's up? + +LAURA. Mr. Madison wants to talk to you, or rather I do, and I want +him to listen. + +WILL. [_His manner changing to one of cold, stolid calculation_.] Very +well. [_Comes down off step of house_. + +LAURA. Will. + +WILL. Yes? + +LAURA. I'm going home day after to-morrow on the Overland Limited. + +WILL. I know. + +LAURA. It's awfully kind of you to come out here, but under the +circumstances I'd rather you'd take an earlier or a later train. + +WILL. And may I ask what circumstances you refer to? + +LAURA. Mr. Madison and I are going to be married. [_Pause_.] He [Will +_looks inquiringly at_ JOHN.] knows of your former friendship for me, +and he has the idea that it must end. + +WILL. Then the Riverside Drive proposition, with Burgess's show thrown +in, is declared off, eh? + +LAURA. Yes; everything is absolutely declared off. + +WILL. Can't even be friends any more, eh? + +JOHN _crosses, and, taking_ LAURA'S _arm, passes her over to seat; his +back is partly to audience_. + +JOHN. You could hardly expect Miss Murdock to be friendly with you +under the circumstances. You could hardly expect me to [LAURA _puts +scarf across her shoulders_.] sanction any such friendship. + +WILL. I think I understand your position, young man, and I perfectly +agree with you, that is--if your plans come out successfully. + +JOHN. Thank you. + +LAURA. Then everything is settled [_Crossing in front of_ JOHN +_and facing_ WILL, _back to audience_.] just the way it ought to +be--frankly and aboveboard? + +WILL. Why, I guess so. If I was perfectly confident that this new +arrangement was going to result happily for you both, I think it would +be great, only I'm somewhat doubtful, for when people become serious +and then fail, I know how hard those things hit, having _been_ hit +once myself. + +JOHN. So you think we're making a wrong move and there isn't a chance +of success! + +WILL. No, I don't make any such gloomy prophecy. If you make Laura a +good husband, and she makes you a good wife, and together you win +out, I'll be mighty glad. As far as I am concerned I shall absolutely +forget every thought of Laura's friendship for me. + +LAURA. I thought you'd be just that way. + +[_Crosses to_ WILL, _shakes hands_. + +WILL. [_Rising_.] And now I must be off. [_Takes her by both hands +and shakes them_.] Good-bye, girlie! Madison, good luck. [_Crosses to_ +JOHN. _Shakes_ JOHN'S _hands; looks into his eyes_.] I think you've +got the stuff in you to succeed if your foot don't slip. + +JOHN. What do you mean by my foot slipping, Mr. Brockton? + +WILL. You want me to tell you? + +JOHN. I sure do. + +WILL. [_Turns to Laura_.] Laura, run into the house and see if +Mrs. Williams has won another quarter. [LAURA _sinks fearfully into +chair_.] Madison and I are going to smoke a cigar and have a friendly +chat, and when we get through I think we'll both be better off. + +LAURA. You are sure that everything will be all right? + +WILL. Sure. + +LAURA _looks at_ JOHN _for assurance, and exits; he nods +reassuringly_. + +WILL. Have a cigar? + +[SERVANT _places lamp on table inside house_. + +JOHN. No, I'll smoke my own. + +[_Crosses down right; sits in armchair_. + +WILL. What is your business? [_Crosses up to seat centre; sits_. + +JOHN. What's yours? + +WILL. I'm a broker. + +JOHN. I'm a reporter, so I've got something on you. + +WILL. What kind? + +JOHN. General utility, dramatic critic on Sunday nights. + +WILL. Pay you well? + +JOHN. [_Turns, looking at_ WILL.] That's pretty fresh. What's the +idea? + +WILL. I'm interested. I'm a plain man, Mr. Madison, and I do business +in a plain way. Now, if I ask you a few questions and discuss this +matter with you in a frank way, don't get it in your head that I'm +jealous or sore, but simply I don't want either of you people to make +a move that's going to cost you a lot of pain and trouble. If you want +me to talk sense to you, all right. If you don't we'll drop it now. +What's the answer? + +JOHN. I'll take a chance, but before you start I want to tell you that +the class of people that you belong to I have no use for--they don't +speak my language. You are what they call a manipulator of stocks; +that means that you're living on the weaknesses of other people, and +it almost means that you get your daily bread, yes, and your cake and +your wine, too, from the production of others. You're a "gambler +under cover." Show me a man who's dealing bank, and he's free and +aboveboard. You can figure the percentage against you, and then, if +you buck the tiger and get stung, you do it with your eyes open. With +your financiers the game is crooked twelve months of the year, and, +from a business point of view, I think you are a crook. Now I guess we +understand each other. If you've got anything to say, why, spill it. + +WILL _rises, comes down toward_ JOHN, _showing anger in his tones_. + +WILL. We are not talking business now, but women. How much money do +you earn? + +[_Crosses to chair left of table; gets it_. + +JOHN. Understand I don't think it is any of your damn business, but +I'm going through with you on this proposition, just to see how the +land lays. But take my tip, you be mighty careful how you speak about +the girl if you're not looking for trouble. + +WILL. All right, but how much did you say you made? + +[_Crosses over to centre of stage, carrying chair; sits_. + +JOHN. Thirty dollars a week. + +WILL. Do you know how much Laura could make if she just took a job on +her own merits? + +JOHN. As I don't intend to share in her salary, I never took the +trouble to inquire. + +WILL. She'd get about forty dollars. + +JOHN. That laps me ten. + +WILL. How are you going to support her? Her cabs cost more than your +salary, and she pays her week's salary for an every-day walking-hat. +She's always had a maid; her simplest gown flirts with a +hundred-dollar note; her manicurist and her hair-dresser will eat up +as much as you pay for your board. She never walks when it's stormy, +and every afternoon there's her ride in the park. She dines at the +best places in New York, and one meal costs her more than you make in +a day. Do you imagine for a moment that she's going to sacrifice these +luxuries for any great length of time? + +JOHN. I intend to give them to her. + +WILL. On thirty dollars a week? + +JOHN. I propose to go out and make a lot of money. + +WILL. How? + +JOHN. I haven't decided yet, but you can bet your sweet life that if I +ever try and make up my mind that it's got to be, it's got to be. + +WILL. Never have made it, have you? + +JOHN. I have never tried. + +WILL. Then how do you know you can? + +JOHN. Well, I'm honest and energetic. If you can get great wealth the +way you go along, I don't see why I can't earn a little. + +WILL. There's where you make a mistake. Money-getting doesn't always +come with brilliancy. I know a lot of fellows in New York who can +paint a great picture, write a good play, and, when it comes to +oratory, they've got me lashed to a pole; but they're always in debt. +They never get anything for what they do. In other words, young man, +they are like a sky-rocket without a stick,--plenty of brilliancy, but +no direction, and they blow up and fizzle all over the ground. + +JOHN. That's New York. I'm in Colorado, and I guess you know there is +a difference. + +WILL. I hope you'll make your money, because I tell you frankly +that's the only way you can hold this girl. She's full of heroics now, +self-sacrifice, and all the things that go to make up the third act of +a play, but the minute she comes to darn her stockings, wash out her +own handkerchiefs and dry them on the window, and send out for a pail +of coffee and a sandwich for lunch, take it from me it will go Blah! +[_Rises, crosses to front of table with chair, places it with back to +him, braces his back on it, facing_ JOHN.] You're in Colorado writing +her letters once a day with no checks in them. That may be all right +for some girl who hasn't tasted the joy of easy living, full of the +good things of life, but one who for ten years has been doing very +well in the way these women do is not going to let up for any great +length of time. So take my advice if you want to hold her. Get that +money quick, and don't be so damned particular how you get it either. + +JOHN'S _patience is evidently severely tried. He approaches_ WILL, +_who remains impassive_. + +JOHN. Of course you know you've got the best of me. + +WILL. How? + +JOHN. We're guests. + +WILL. No one's listening. + +JOHN. 'Tisn't that. If it was anywhere but here, if there was any way +to avoid all the nasty scandal, I'd come a shootin' for you, and you +know it. + +WILL. Gun-fighter, eh? + +JOHN. Perhaps. Let me tell you this. I don't know how you make your +money, but I know what you do with it. You buy yourself a small circle +of sycophants; you pay them well for feeding your vanity; and then you +pose,--pose with a certain frank admission of vice and degradation. +And those who aren't quite as brazen as you call it manhood. Manhood? +[_Crossing slowly to armchair, sits._] Why, you don't know what the +word means. It's the attitude of a pup and a cur. + +WILL. [_Angrily_.] Wait a minute [_Crosses to_ JOHN.], young man, or +I'll-- + +JOHN _rises quickly. Both men stand confronting each other for a +moment with fists clenched. They are on the very verge of a personal +encounter. Both seem to realize that they have gone too far_. + +JOHN. You'll what? + +WILL. Lose my temper and make a damn fool of myself. That's something +I've not done for--let me see--why, it must be nearly twenty +years--oh, yes, fully that. + +[_He smiles_; JOHN _relaxes and takes one step back_. + +JOHN. Possibly it's been about that length of time since you were +human, eh? + +WILL. Possibly--but you see, Mr. Madison, after all, you're at fault. + +JOHN. Yes? + +WILL. Yes, the very first thing you did was to lose your temper. Now +people who always lose their temper will never make a lot of money, +and you admit that that is a great necessity--I mean now--to you. + +JOHN. I can't stand for the brutal way you talk. [_Crosses up to seat, +picks up newspaper, slams it down angrily on seat, and sits with elbow +on balustrade_. + +WILL. But you have got to stand it. The truth is never gentle. +[_Crosses up and sits left of_ JOHN.] Most conditions in life are +unpleasant, and, if you want to meet them squarely, you have got to +realize the unpleasant point of view. That's the only way you can +fight them and win. + +JOHN [_Turns to_ WILL.] Still, I believe Laura means what she says, +in spite of all you say and the disagreeable logic of it. I think she +loves me. If she should ever want to go back to the old way of getting +along, I think she'd tell me so. So you see, Brockton, all your talk +is wasted, and we'll drop the subject. + +[_Crosses down and sits in armchair_. + +WILL. And if she should ever go back and come to me, I am going to +insist that she let you know all about it. It'll be hard enough to +lose her, caring for her the way you do, but it would hurt a lot more +to be double-crossed. + +JOHN. [_Sarcastically_.] That's very kind. Thanks! + +WILL. Don't get sore. It's common sense and it goes, does it not? + +JOHN. [_Turns to_ WILL.] Just what goes? + +WILL. If she leaves you first, you are to tell me, and if she comes to +me I'll make her let you know just when and why. + +JOHN _is leaning on arm, facing_ WILL; _his hand shoots out in a +gesture of warning to_ WILL. + +JOHN. Look out! + +WILL. I said common sense. + +JOHN. All right. + +WILL. Agreed? [_A pause_. + +JOHN. You're on. + +_By this time the stage is black and all that can be seen is the glow +of the two cigars. Piano in the next room is heard_. JOHN _crosses +slowly and deliberately to door, looks in, throws cigar away over the +terrace, exits into house, closes doors, and, as_ WILL _is seated on +terrace, puffing cigar, the red coal of which is alone visible, a slow +curtain_. + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE. _Six months have elapsed. The furnished room of_ LAURA MURDOCK, +_second story back of an ordinary, cheap theatrical lodging-house in +the theatre district of New York. The house is evidently of a type of +the old-fashioned brown-stone front, with high ceilings, dingy walls, +and long, rather insecure windows. The woodwork is depressingly dark. +The ceiling is cracked, the paper is old and spotted and in places +loose. There is a door leading to the hallway. There is a large +old-fashioned wardrobe in which are hung a few old clothes, most +of them a good deal worn and shabby, showing that the owner_--LAURA +MURDOCK--_has had a rather hard time of it since leaving Colorado +in the first act. The doors of this wardrobe must be equipped with +springs so they will open outward, and also furnished with wires so +they can be controlled from the back. This is absolutely necessary, +owing to "business" which is done during the progress of the act. The +drawer in the bottom of the wardrobe is open at rise. This is filled +with a lot of rumpled, tissue-paper and other rubbish. An old pair of +shoes is seen at the upper end of the wardrobe on the floor. There is +an armchair over which is thrown an ordinary kimono, and on top of +the wardrobe are a number of magazines and old books, and an unused +parasol wrapped up in tissue paper._ + +_The dresser, which is upstage, against the wall, is in keeping with +the general meanness, and its adornment consists of old postcards +stuck in between the mirror and its frame, with some well-worn veils +and ribbons hung on the side. On the dresser is a pincushion, a bottle +of cheap perfume, purple in colour and nearly empty; a common crockery +match-holder, containing matches, which must be practicable; a +handkerchief-box, powder-box and puff, rouge-box and rouge paw, +hand mirror, small alcohol curling-iron heater, which must also be +practicable, as it is used in the "business" of the act; scissors, +curling-tongs, hair comb and brush, and a small cheap picture of_ JOHN +MADISON; _a small work-box containing a thimble and thread,--and stuck +in the pincushion are a couple of needles, threaded. Directly to the +left of the bureau, with the door to the outside closet intervening, +is a broken-down washstand, on which is a basin half full of water, a +bottle of tooth-powder, tooth brushes and holder, soap and soap-dish, +and other cheap toilet articles, and a small drinking-glass. Hung on +the corner of the washstand is a soiled towel. Hung on the rack across +the top of the washstand one can see a pair of stockings. On the floor +in front of the washstand is a pitcher half full of water; also a +large waste-water jar of the cheapest type._ + +_Below the washstand, and with the head against the wall, is a +three-quarter old wooden bed, also showing the general decay of the +entire room. Tacked on the head of this bed is a large photo of_ JOHN +MADISON, _with a small bow of dainty blue ribbon at the top, covering +the tack. Under the photo are arranged half a dozen cheap, artificial +violets, in pitiful recognition of the girl's love for her absent +sweetheart._ + +_Under the mattress at the head of the bed is a heavy cardboard box, +about thirty inches long, seven inches wide and four inches deep, +containing about one hundred and twenty-five letters and eighty +telegrams, tied in about eight bundles with dainty ribbon. One bundle +must contain all practical letters of several closely written pages +each, each letter having been opened. They must be written upon +business paper and envelopes, such as are used in newspaper offices +and by business men._ + +_Under the pillow at the head of the bed is carelessly thrown a +woman's night-dress. On the bed is an old book, open, with face +downward, and beside it is an apple which some one has been nibbling. +Across the foot of the bed is a soiled quilt, untidily folded. The +pillows are hollow in the centre, as if having been used lately. At +the foot of the bed is a small table, with soiled and ink-stained +cover, upon which are a cheap pitcher, containing some withered +carnations, and a desk-pad, with paper, pen, ink, and envelopes +scattered around._ + +_Against the wall below the bed is an old mantel-piece and fireplace +with iron grate, such as are used in houses of this type. On the +mantel-piece are photos of actors and actresses, an old mantel clock +in the centre, in front of which is a box of cheap peppermint candy in +large pieces, and a plate with two apples upon it; some cheap pieces +of bric-à -brac and a little vase containing joss-sticks, such as one +might burn to improve the atmosphere of these dingy, damp houses. +Below the mantel-piece is a thirty-six inch theatre trunk, with +theatre labels on it, in the tray of which are articles of clothing, +a small box of thread, and a bundle of eight pawn tickets. Behind the +trunk is a large cardboard box. Hanging from the ceiling directly +over the table is a single arm gas-jet, from which is hung a turkey +wish-bone. On the jet is a little wire arrangement to hold small +articles for heating. Beside the table is a chair. Under the bed are a +pair of bedroom slippers and a box. Between the bed and the mantel +is a small tabourette on which are a book and a candle-stick with +the candle half burned. On the floor in front of the door is a +slipper,--also another in front of the dresser,--as if they had been +thrown carelessly down. On the wardrobe door, on the down-stage side, +is tacked another photo of_ JOHN MADISON. + +_In an alcove off left is a table on which is a small oil stove, two +cups, saucers and plates, a box of matches, tin coffee-box, and a +small Japanese teapot. On a projection outside the window is a pint +milk bottle, half filled with milk, and an empty benzine bottle, which +is labelled. Both are covered with snow._ + +_The backing shows a street snow-covered. In arranging the properties +it must be remembered that in the wardrobe is a box of Uneeda +biscuits, with one end torn open. There is a door down right, opening +inward, leading into the hallway. The window is at back, running from +floor nearly to the ceiling. This window does not rise, but opens in +the manner of the French or door window._ + +_On the outside of the window covering the same is an iron guard such +as is used in New York on the lower back windows. The rods running up +and down are about four inches apart. There is a projection outside +the window such as would be formed by a storm door in the basement; +running the full length of the window and about thirty inches wide, +raised about a foot from the floor in front and about nine inches in +the back, there is opening inward a door at left back, leading into +a small alcove, as has been mentioned before. The door is half glass, +the glass part being the upper half, and is ajar when the curtain +rises. A projection at fireplace such as would be made for a chimney +is in the wall which runs from left centre diagonally to left first +entrance._ + +AT RISE _the stage is empty. After a pause_ LAURA _enters, passes the +dresser, places umbrella at the right, end of it against wall, crosses +to back of armchair, removes gloves, lays them over back of chair, +takes off coat and hat, hangs hat on end of wardrobe, and puts coat +inside; notices old slipper in front of dresser and one on the extreme +right, and with impatience picks them up and puts them in the +wardrobe drawer. Then crosses to dresser, gets needle and thread off +pincushion, and mends small rip in glove, after which she puts gloves +in top drawer of dresser, crosses to extreme end of dresser, and gets +handkerchief out of box, takes up bottle containing purple perfume, +holds it up so she can see there is only a small quantity left, +sprinkles a drop on handkerchief carefully, so as not to use too much, +looks at bottle again to see how much is left, places it on dresser; +goes to up-stage side of bed, kneels on head of the bed and looks +lovingly at photo of_ JOHN MADISON, _and finally pulls up the +mattress, takes out box of letters, and opens it. She then sits down +in Oriental fashion, with her feet under her, selects a bundle of +letters, unties the ribbon, and takes out a letter such as has been +hereinbefore described, glances it over, puts it down in her lap, and +again takes a long look at the picture of_ JOHN MADISON. ANNIE _is +heard coming upstairs_. LAURA _looks quickly towards the door, puts +the letters back in box, and hurriedly places box under mattress, and +replaces pillow_. ANNIE _knocks on door_. LAURA _rises and crosses to +door._ + +LAURA. Come in. + +ANNIE, _a chocolate-colored negress, enters. She is slovenly in +appearance, but must not in any way denote the "mammy." She is the +type one encounters in cheap theatrical lodging-houses. She has a +letter in her hand,--also a clean towel folded,--and approaches_ +LAURA. + +LAURA. Hello, Annie. + +ANNIE. Heah's yo' mail, Miss Laura. + +LAURA. [_Taking letter._] Thank you! + +[_She looks at the address and does not open it._ + +ANNIE. One like dat comes every mornin', don't it? Used to all be +postmahked Denver. Must 'a' moved. [_Trying to look over_ LAURA'S +_shoulder_; LAURA _turns and sees her_; ANNIE _looks away._] Where is +dat place called Goldfield, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. In Nevada. + +ANNIE. In _Nevada_? + +LAURA. Yes, Nevada. + +ANNIE. [_Draws her jacket closer around her as if chilly._] Must +be mighty smaht to write yuh every day. De pos'man brings it 'leven +o'clock mos' always, sometimes twelve, and again sometimes tehn; but +it comes every day, don't it? + +LAURA. I know. + +ANNIE. [_Crosses to right of armchair, brushes it off and makes an +effort to read letter, leaning across chair._] Guess must be from yo' +husban', ain't it? + +LAURA. No, I haven't any. + +ANNIE. [_Crossing to centre triumphantly._] Dat's what Ah tole Mis' +Farley when she was down talkin' about you dis morning. She said if he +all was yo' husband he might do somethin' to help you out. Ah told her +Ah didn't think you had any husban'. Den she says you ought to have +one, you're so pretty. + +LAURA. Oh, Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Sees door open; goes and bangs it shut._] Der ain't a decent +door in dis old house. Mis' Farley said yo' might have mos' any man +you [_Hangs clean towel on washstand._] wanted just for de askin', but +Ah said yuh [_Takes newspaper and books off bed, and places them on +table._] was too particular about the man yo' 'd want. Den she did a +heap o' talking. + +LAURA. About what? [_Places letter open on table, looks at hem of +skirt, discovers a rip, rises, crosses up to dresser, gets needle, +crosses down to trunk; opens and takes thimble out; closes lid of +tray, sits on it, and sews skirt during scene._ + +ANNIE. [_At bed, fussing around, folds nightgown and places it under +pillow._] Well, you know, Mis' Farley she's been havin' so much +trouble wid her roomers. Yestuhday dat young lady on de second flo' +front, she lef'. She's goin' wiv some troupe on the road. She owed her +room for three weeks and jus' had to leave her trunk. [_Crosses and +fusses over table._] My! how Mis' Farley did scold her. Mis' Farley +let on she could have paid dat money if she wanted to, but somehow Ah +guess she couldn't-- + +[_Reads letter on table._ + +LAURA. [_Sees her, angrily exclaims._] Annie! + +ANNIE. [_In confusion, brushing off table._]--for if she could she +wouldn't have left her trunk, would she, Miss Laura? + +[_Crosses to armchair, and picks up kimono off back._ + +LAURA. No, I suppose not. What did Mrs. Farley say about me? + +ANNIE. Oh! nothin' much. [_Crosses left and stands._ + +LAURA. Well, what? + +ANNIE. She kinder say somethin' 'bout yo' being three weeks behind in +yo' room rent, and she said she t'ought it was 'bout time yuh handed +her somethin', seein' as how yuh must o' had some stylish friends when +yuh come here. + +LAURA. Who, for instance? + +ANNIE. Ah don't know. Mis' Farley said some of 'em might slip yo' +enough jest to help yuh out. [_Pause._] Ain't yo' got nobody to take +care of you at all, Miss Laura? + +[_Hangs kimono over back of armchair._ + +LAURA. No! No one. + +ANNIE. Dat's too bad. + +LAURA. Why? + +ANNIE. [_Crossing again._] Mis' Farley says yuh wouldn't have no +trouble at all gettin' any man to take care of yuh if yuh wanted to. + +LAURA. [_With sorrowful shudder._] Please [_Doors of wardrobe open +very slowly._] don't, Annie. + +ANNIE. Dere's a gemman [_Playing with corner of tablecloth._] dat +calls on one of de ladies from the Hippodrome, in de big front room +downstairs. He's mighty nice, and he's been askin' 'bout you. + +LAURA. [_Exasperated._] Oh, shut up! + +ANNIE. [_Sees doors of wardrobe have swung open; she crosses, slams +them shut, turns to_ LAURA.] Mis' Farley says--[_Doors have swung open +again; they hit her in the back. She turns and bangs them to with all +her strength_.] Damn dat door! [_Crosses to washstand, grabs basin +which is half full of water, empties same into waste-jar, puts basin +on washstand, and wipes it out with soiled towel_.] Mis' Farley says +if she don't get someone in the house dat has reg'lar money soon, +she'll have to shut up and go to the po'house. + +LAURA. I'm sorry; I'll try again to-day. [_Rises, crosses up to +mantel, gets desk-pad, &c., crosses to right of table, sits_. + +ANNIE. [_Crosses to back of bed, wiping basin with towel_.] Ain't yo' +got any job at all? + +LAURA. No. + +ANNIE. When yuh come here yuh had lots of money and yo' was mighty +good to me. You know Mr. Weston? + +LAURA. Jim Weston? + +ANNIE. Yassum, Mr. Weston what goes ahead o' shows and lives on the +top floor back; he says nobody's got jobs now. Dey're so many actors +and actoresses out o' work. Mis' Farley says she don't know how she's +goin' to live. She said you'd been mighty nice up until three weeks +ago, but yuh ain't got much left, have you, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. [_Rising and going to the bureau_.] No. It's all gone. + +ANNIE. Mah sakes! All dem rings and things? You ain't done sold them? +[_Sinks on bed_. + +LAURA. They're pawned. What did Mrs. Farley say she was going to do? + +ANNIE. Guess maybe Ah'd better not tell. + +[_Crosses to door hurriedly, carrying soiled towel_. + +LAURA. Please do. [_Crosses to chair, left side_. + +ANNIE. Yuh been so good to me, Miss Laura. Never was nobody in dis +house what give me so much, and Ah ain't been gettin' much lately. And +when Mis' Farley said yuh must either pay yo' rent or she would ask +yuh for your room, Ah jest set right down on de back kitchen stairs +and cried. Besides, Mis' Farley don't like me very well since you've +ben havin' yo' breakfasts and dinners brought up here. + +LAURA. Why not? [_Takes kimono of chair-back, crosses up to dresser, +puts kimono in drawer, takes out purse_. + +ANNIE. She has a rule in dis house dat nobody can use huh chiny or +fo'ks or spoons who ain't boa'ding heah, and de odder day when yuh +asked me to bring up a knife and fo'k she ketched me coming upstairs, +and she says, "Where yuh goin' wid all dose things, Annie?" Ah said, +"Ah'm just goin' up to Miss Laura's room with dat knife and fo'k." Ah +said, "Ah'm goin' up for nothin' at all, Mis' Farley, she jest wants +to look at them, Ah guess." She said, "She wants to eat huh dinner wid +'em, Ah guess." Ah got real mad, and Ah told her if she'd give me mah +pay Ah'd brush right out o' here; dat's what Ah'd do, Ah'd brush right +out o' here. [_Violently shaking out towel_. + +LAURA. I'm sorry, Annie, if I've caused you any trouble. Never mind, +I'll be able to pay the rent to-morrow or next day anyway. [_She +fumbles in purse, takes out a quarter, and turns to_ ANNIE.] Here! + +ANNIE. No, ma'am, Ah don' want dat. + +[_Making a show of reluctance_. + +LAURA. Please take it. + +ANNIE. No, ma'am, Ah don' want it. You need dat. Dat's breakfast money +for yuh, Miss Laura. + +LAURA. Please take it, Annie. I might just as well get rid of this as +anything else. + +ANNIE. [_Takes it rather reluctantly_.] Yuh always was so good, Miss +Laura. Sho' yuh don' want dis? + +LAURA. Sure. + +ANNIE. Sho' yo' goin' to get planty mo'? + +LAURA. Sure. + +MRS. FARLEY'S VOICE. [_Downstairs_.] Annie! Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Going to door, opens it_.] Dat's Mis' Farley. [_To_ MRS. +FARLEY.] Yassum, Mis' Farley. + +SAME VOICE. Is Miss Murdock up there? + +ANNIE. Yassum, Mis' Farley, yassum! + +MRS. FARLEY. Anything doin'? + +ANNIE. Huh? + +MRS. FARLEY. Anything doin'? + +ANNIE. [_At door_.] Ah--Ah--hain't asked, Missy Farley. + +MRS. FARLEY. Then do it. + +LAURA. [_Coming to the rescue at the door. To_ ANNIE.] I'll answer +her. [_Out of door to_ MRS. FARLEY.] What is it, Mrs. Farley? + +MRS. FARLEY. [_Her voice softened_.] Did ye have any luck this +morning, dearie? + +LAURA. No; but I promise you faithfully to help you out this afternoon +or to-morrow. + +MRS. FARLEY. Sure? Are you certain? + +LAURA. Absolutely. + +MRS. FARLEY. Well, I must say these people expect me to keep--[_Door +closed_. + +LAURA _quietly closes the door, and_ MRS. FARLEY'S _rather strident +voice is heard indistinctly_. LAURA _sighs and walks toward table; +sits_. ANNIE _looks after her, and then slowly opens the door_. + +ANNIE. Yo' sho' dere ain't nothin' I can do fo' yuh, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. Nothing. + +ANNIE _exits_. LAURA _sits down and looks at letter, opening it. It +consists of several pages closely written. She reads some of them +hurriedly, skims through the rest, and then turns to the last page +without reading; glances at it; lays it on table; rises_. + +LAURA. Hope, just nothing but hope. + +_She crosses to bed, falls face down upon it, burying her face in her +hands. Her despondency is palpable. As she lies there a hurdy-gurdy +in the street starts to play a popular air. This arouses her and she +rises, crosses to wardrobe, takes out box of crackers, opens window, +gets bottle of milk off sill outside, places them on table, gets glass +off washstand, at the same time humming the tune of the hurdy-gurdy, +when a knock comes; she crosses quickly to dresser; powders her nose. +The knock is timidly repeated_. + +LAURA. [_Without turning, and in a rather tired tone of voice_.] Come +in. + +JIM WESTON, _a rather shabby theatrical advance-agent of the old +school, enters timidly, halting at the door and holding the knob in +his hand. He is a man of about forty years old, dressed in an ordinary +manner, of medium height, and in fact has the appearance of a once +prosperous clerk who has been in hard luck. His relations with_ +LAURA _are those of pure friendship. They both live in the same +lodging-place, and, both having been out of employment, they have +naturally become acquainted_. + +JIM. Can I come in? + +LAURA. [_Without turning_.] Hello, Jim Weston. [_He closes door and +enters_.] Any luck? + +JIM. Lots of it. + +LAURA. That's good. Tell me. + +JIM. It's bad luck. Guess you don't want to hear. + +LAURA. I'm sorry. Where have you been? + +JIM. I kind o' felt around up at Burgess's office. I thought I might +get a job there, but he put me off until to-morrow. Somehow those +fellows always do business to-morrow. + +[_Hurdy-gurdy dies out_. + +LAURA. Yes, and there's always to-day to look after. + +JIM. I'm ready to give up. I've tramped Broadway for nine weeks until +every piece of flagstone gives me the laugh when it sees my feet +coming. Got a letter from the missis this morning. The kids got to +have some clothes, there's measles in the town, and mumps in the next +village. I've just got to raise some money or get some work, or the +first thing you'll know I'll be hanging around Central Park on a dark +night with a club. + +LAURA. I know just how you feel. Sit down, Jim. [JIM _crosses and +sits in chair right of table_.] It's pretty tough for me [_Offers_ JIM +_glass of milk; he refuses; takes crackers_.], but it must be a whole +lot worse for you with a wife and kids. + +JIM. Oh, if a man's alone he can generally get along--turn his hand to +anything; but a woman-- + +LAURA. Worse, you think? + +JIM. I was just thinking about you and what Burgess said? + +LAURA. What was that? + +[_Crosses to bed; sits on up-stage side, sipping milk_. + +JIM. You know Burgess and I used to be in the circus business +together. He took care of the grafters when I was boss canvas man. I +never could see any good in shaking down the rubes for all the money +they had and then taking part of it. He used to run the privilege car, +you know. + +LAURA. Privilege car? + +JIM. Had charge of all the pickpockets,--dips we called +'em--sure-thing gamblers, and the like. Made him rich. I kept sort o' +on the level and I'm broke. Guess it don't pay to be honest-- + +LAURA. [_Turns to him and in a significant voice_:] You don't really +think that? + +JIM. No, maybe not. Ever since I married the missis and the first kid +come, we figured the only good money was the kind folks worked for and +earned; but when you can't get hold of that, it's tough. + +LAURA. I know. + +JIM. Burgess don't seem to be losing sleep over the tricks he's +turned. He's happy and prosperous, but I guess he ain't any better now +than he was then. + +LAURA. Maybe not. I've been trying to get an engagement from him. +There are half a dozen parts in his new attractions that I could do, +but he has never absolutely said "no," but yet somehow he's never said +"yes." + +JIM. He spoke about you. + +LAURA. In what way? [_Rising, stands behind_ JIM'S _chair._ + +JIM. I gave him my address and he seen it was yours, too. Asked if I +lived in the same place. + +LAURA. Was that all? + +JIM. Wanted to know how you was getting on. I let him know you needed +work, but I didn't tip my hand you was flat broke. He said something +about you being a damned fool. + +LAURA. [_Suddenly and interested._] How? [_She crosses._ + +JIM. Well, Johnny Ensworth--you know he used to do the fights on the +_Evening Journal_; now he's press-agent for Burgess; nice fellow and +way on the inside--he told me where you were in wrong. + +LAURA. What have I done? [_Sits in armchair._ + +JIM. Burgess don't put up the money for any of them musical +comedies--he just trails. Of course he's got a lot of influence, and +he's always Johnny-on-the-Spot to turn any dirty trick that they +want. There are four or five rich men in town who are there with the +bank-roll, providing he engages women who ain't so very particular +about the location of their residence, and who don't hear a curfew +ring at 11:30 every night. + +LAURA. And he thinks I am too particular? + +JIM. That's what was slipped me. Seems that one of the richest men +that is in on Mr. Burgess's address-book is a fellow named Brockton +from downtown some place. He's got more money than the Shoe and +Leather National Bank. He likes to play show business. + +LAURA. [_Rises quickly._] Oh! [_Crosses to wardrobe, gets hat; crosses +to dresser, gets scissors with intention of curling feathers._ + +JIM. I thought you knew him. I thought it was just as well to tell you +where he and Burgess stand. They're pals. + +LAURA. [_Coming over to_ JIM _and with emphasis crosses to down-stage +side of bed; puts hat and scissors on bed._] I don't want you to talk +about him or any of them. I just want you to know that I'm trying to +do everything in my power to go through this season without any more +trouble. I've pawned everything I've got; I've cut every friend I +knew. But where am I going to end? That's what I want to know--where +am I going to end? [_To bed and sits_.] Every place I look for a +position something interferes. It's almost as if I were blacklisted. +I know I could get jobs all right if I wanted to pay the price, but I +won't. I just want to tell you, I won't. No! + +[_Rises, crosses to mantel, rests elbow._ + +JIM. That's the way to talk. [_Rises._] I don't know you very well, +but I've watched you close. I'm just a common, ordinary showman who +never had much money, and I'm going out o' date. I've spent most of +my time with nigger-minstrel shows and circuses, but I've been on the +square. That's why I'm broke. [_Rather sadly._] Once I thought +the missis would have to go back and do her acrobatic act, but she +couldn't do that, she's grown so damn fat. [_Crosses to_ LAURA.] Just +you don't mind. It'll all come out right. + +LAURA. It's an awful tough game, isn't it? + +JIM. [_During this speech_ LAURA _gets cup, pours milk back into +bottle, closes biscuit-box, puts milk on shed outside, and biscuits +into wardrobe, cup in alcove._] It's hell forty ways from the Jack. +It's tough for me, but for a pretty woman with a lot o' rich fools +jumping out o' their automobiles and hanging around stage doors, +it must be something awful. I ain't blaming the women. They say +"self-preservation is the first law of nature," and I guess that's +right; but sometimes when the show is over and I see them fellows with +their hair plastered back, smoking cigarettes in a [LAURA _crosses +to chair right of table and leans over back._] holder long enough to +reach from here to Harlem, and a bank-roll that would bust my pocket +and turn my head, I feel as if I'd like to get a gun and go a-shooting +around this old town. + +LAURA. Jim! + +JIM. Yes, I do--you bet. + +LAURA. That wouldn't pay, would it? + +JIM. No, they're not worth the job of sitting on that throne in Sing +Sing, and I'm too poor to go to Matteawan. But all them fellows under +nineteen and over fifty-nine ain't much use to themselves or anyone +else. + +LAURA. [_Rather meditatively._] Perhaps all of them are not so bad. + +JIM. [_Sits on bed._] Yes, they are,--angels and all. Last season I +had one of them shows where a rich fellow backed it on account of a +girl. We lost money and he lost his girl; then we got stuck in +Texas. I telegraphed: "Must have a thousand, or can't move." He just +answered: "Don't move." We didn't. + +LAURA. But that was business. + +JIM. Bad business. It took a year for some of them folks to get back +to Broadway. Some of the girls never did, and I guess never will. + +LAURA. Maybe they're better off, Jim. [_Sits right of table._ + +JIM. Couldn't be worse. They're still in Texas. [_To himself._] Wish I +knew how to do something else, being a plumber or a walking delegate; +they always have jobs. + +LAURA. Well, I wish I could do something else too, but I can't, and +we've got to make the best of it. + +JIM. I guess so. I'll see you this evening. I hope you'll have good +news by that time. [_Starts to exit, about to open door; then retreats +a step, with hand on door-knob, crosses and in a voice meant to be +kindly_] If you'd like to go to the theatre to-night, and take some +other woman in the house, maybe I can get a couple of tickets for some +of the shows. I know a lot of fellows who are working. + +LAURA. No, thanks. I haven't anything to wear to the theatre, and I +don't-- + +JIM. [_With a smile crosses to_ LAURA, _puts arm around her._] Now you +just cheer up! Something's sure to turn up. It always has for me, and +I'm a lot older than you, both in years and in this business. There's +always a break in hard luck sometime--that's sure. + +LAURA. [_Smiling through her tears._] I hope so. But things are +looking pretty hopeless now, aren't they? + +JIM. I'll go down and give Mrs. F. a line o' talk and try to square +you for a couple of days more anyway. But I guess she's laying pretty +close to the cushion herself, poor woman. + +LAURA. Annie says a lot of people owe her. + +JIM. Well, you can't pay what you haven't got. And even if money was +growing on trees, it's winter now. [JIM _goes towards door._] I'm off. +Maybe to-day is lucky day. So long! + +LAURA. Good-bye. + +JIM. Keep your nerve. [_Exit_ + +LAURA. I will. [_She sits for a moment in deep thought, picks up the +letter received, as if to read it, and then throws it down in anger. +She buries her head in hands_.] I can't stand it--I just simply can't +stand it. + +MRS. FARLEY'S VOICE. [_Off stage_.] Miss Murdock--Miss Murdock. + +LAURA. [_Brushing away tears, rises, goes to door, and opens it_.] +What is it? + +SAME VOICE. There's a lady down here to see you. + +ELFIE'S VOICE. [_Off stage_.] Hello, dearie, can I come up? + +LAURA. Is that you, Elfie? + +ELFIE. Yes; shall I come up? + +LAURA. Why, certainly. + +_She waits at the door for a moment, and_ ELFIE ST. CLAIR _appears. +She is gorgeously gowned in the rather extreme style affected by the +usual New York woman who is cared for by a gentleman of wealth and +who has not gone through the formality of matrimonial alliance. Her +conduct is always exaggerated and her attitude vigorous. Her gown is +of the latest design, and in every detail of dress she shows evidence +of most extravagant expenditure. She carries a hand-bag of gold, +upon which are attached such trifles as a gold cigarette-case, a gold +powder-box, pencils, and the like_. ELFIE _throws her arms around_ +LAURA, _and both exchange kisses_. + +ELFIE. Laura, you old dear [_Crossing to table_.], I've just found out +where you've been hiding, and came around to see you. + +LAURA. [_Who is much brightened by_ ELFIE'S _appearance_.] Elfie, +you're looking bully. How are you, dear? + +ELFIE. Fine. + +LAURA. Come in and sit down. I haven't much to offer, but-- + +ELFIE. Oh, never mind. It's such a grand day outside, and I've come +around in my car to take you out. [_Sits right of table_.] You know +I've got a new one, and it can go some. + +LAURA. [_Sits on arm of chair_.] I am sorry, but I can't go out this +afternoon, Elfie. + +ELFIE. What's the matter? + +LAURA. You see I'm staying home a good deal nowadays. I haven't been +feeling very well and I don't go out much. + +ELFIE. I should think not. I haven't seen you in Rector's or Martin's +since you come back from Denver. Got a glimpse of you one day trailing +up Broadway, but couldn't get to you--you dived into some office or +other. [_For the first time she surveys the room, rises, looks around +critically, crossing to mantel_.] Gee! Whatever made you come into a +dump like this? It's the limit. + +LAURA. [_Crossing and standing back of the table_.] Oh, I know it +isn't pleasant, but it's my home, and after all--a home's a home. + +ELFIE. Looks more like a prison. [_Takes candy from mantel; spits it +out on floor_.] Makes me think of the old days of Child's sinkers and +a hall bedroom. + +LAURA. It's comfortable. [_Leaning hands on table_. + +ELFIE. Not! [_Sits on bed, trying bed with comedy effect_. Say, is +this here for an effect, or do you sleep on it? + +LAURA. I sleep on it. + +ELFIE. No wonder you look tired. Say, listen, dearie. What else is the +matter with you anyway? + +LAURA. Nothing. + +ELFIE. Yes, there is. What happened between you and Brockton? +[_Notices faded flowers in vase on table; takes them out, tosses them +into fireplace, replaces them with gardenias which she wears_.] He's +not broke, because I saw him the other day. + +LAURA. Where? + +ELFIE. In the park. Asked me out to luncheon, but I couldn't go. You +know, dearie, I've got to be so careful. Jerry's so awful jealous--the +old fool. + +LAURA. Do you see much of Jerry nowadays, Elfie? + +ELFIE. Not any more than I can help and be nice. He gets on my nerves. +Of course, I've heard about your quitting Brockton. + +LAURA. Then why do you ask? + +[_Crosses around chair right of table; stands_. + +ELFIE. Just wanted to hear from your own dear lips what the trouble +was. Now tell me all about it. Can I smoke here? + +[_Takes cigarette-case up, opens it, selecting cigarette_. + +LAURA. Surely. [_Gets matches off bureau, puts them on table_. + +ELFIE. Have one? [_Offers case_. + +LAURA. No, thank you. + +[_Sits in chair right of table, facing_ ELFIE. + +ELFIE. H'm-m, h'm-m, hah! [_Lights cigarette_.] Now go ahead. Tell me +all the scandal. I'm just crazy to know. + +LAURA. There's nothing to tell. I haven't been able to find work, that +is all, and I'm short of money. You can't live in hotels, you know, +with cabs and all that sort of thing, when you're not working. + +ELFIE. Yes, you can. I haven't worked in a year. + +LAURA. But you don't understand, dear. I--I--Well, you know I--well, +you know--I can't say what I want. + +ELFIE. Oh, yes, you can. You can say anything to me--everybody else +does. We've been pals. I know you got along a little faster in the +business than I did. The chorus was my limit, and you went into the +legitimate thing. But we got our living just the same way. I didn't +suppose there was any secret between you and me about that. + +LAURA. I know there wasn't then, Elfie, but I tell you I'm different +now. I don't want to do that sort of thing, and I've been very +unlucky. This has been a terribly hard season for me. I simply haven't +been able to get an engagement. + +ELFIE. Well, you can't get on this way. Won't [_Pauses, knocking ashes +off cigarette to cover hesitation_.] Brockton help you out? + +LAURA. What's the use of talking to you [_Rises and crosses to +fireplace_.], Elfie; you don't understand. + +ELFIE. [_Puffing deliberately on cigarette and crossing her legs in +almost a masculine attitude_.] No? Why don't I understand? + +LAURA. Because you can't; you've never felt as I have. + +ELFIE. How do you know? + +LAURA. [_Turning impatiently_.] Oh, what's the use of explaining? + +ELFIE. You know, Laura, I'm not much on giving advice, but you make me +sick. I thought you'd grown wise. A young girl just butting into this +business might possibly make a fool of herself, but you ought to be on +to the game and make the best of it. + +LAURA. [_Going over to her angrily_.] If you came up here, Elfie, to +talk that sort of stuff to me, please don't. I was West this summer. +I met someone, a real man, who did me a whole lot of good,--a man who +opened my eyes to a different way of going along--a man who--Oh, well, +what's the use? You don't know--you don't know. [_Sits on bed_. + +ELFIE. [_Throws cigarette into fireplace_.] I don't know, don't I? I +don't know, I suppose, that when I came to this town from up state,--a +little burg named Oswego,--and joined a chorus, that I didn't fall in +love with just such a man. I suppose I don't know that then I was +the best-looking girl in New York, and everybody talked about me? I +suppose I don't know that there were men, all ages and with all kinds +of money, ready to give me anything for the mere privilege of taking +me out to supper? And I didn't do it, did I? For three years I stuck +by this good man who was to lead me in a good way toward a good life. +And all the time I was getting older, never quite so pretty one day +as I had been the day before. I never knew then what it was to be +tinkered with by hair-dressers and manicures or a hundred and one of +those other people who make you look good. I didn't have to have them +then. [_Rises, crosses to right of table, facing_ LAURA.] Well, you +know, Laura, what happened. + +LAURA. Wasn't it partly your fault, Elfie? + +ELFIE. [_Speaking across table angrily._] Was it my fault that time +made me older and I took on a lot of flesh? Was it my fault that the +work and the life took out the colour, and left the make-up? Was it my +fault that other pretty young girls came along, just as I'd come, and +were chased after, just as I was? Was it my fault the cabs weren't +waiting any more and people didn't talk about how pretty I was? And +was it my fault when he finally had me alone, and just because no one +else wanted me, he got tired and threw me flat--cold flat [_Brings +hand down on table._]--and I'd been on the dead level with him! [_With +almost a sob, crosses up to bureau, powders nose, comes down back of +table._] It almost broke my heart. Then I made up my mind to get +even and get all I could out of the game. Jerry came along. He was a +has-been and I was on the road to be. He wanted to be good to me, and +I let him. That's all. + +LAURA. Still, I don't see how you can live that way. + +[_Lies on bed._ + +ELFIE. Well, you did, and you didn't kick. + +LAURA. Yes, but things are different with me now. You'd be the same +way if you were in my place. + +ELFIE. No. I've had all the romance I want, and I'll stake you to all +your love affairs. [_Crosses back of bed, touches picture over bed._] +I am out to gather in as much coin as I can in my own way, so when the +old rainy day comes along I'll have a little change to buy myself an +umbrella. + +LAURA. [_Rising and angrily crossing to armchair._] What did you come +here for? Why can't you leave me alone when I'm trying to get along? + +ELFIE. Because I want to help you. + +LAURA. [_During speech crosses to up-stage side of bed, angrily tosses +quilt to floor and sits on bed in tears._] You can't help me. I'm all +right--I tell you I am. What do you care anyway? + +ELFIE. [_Sits on bed, crosses down stage to lower left side of bed, +sits facing_ LAURA.] But I do care. I know how you feel with an old +cat for a landlady and living up here on a side street with a lot of +cheap burlesque people. Why, the room's cold [LAURA _rises, crosses +to window._], and there's no hot water, and you're beginning to look +shabby. You haven't got a job--chances are you won't have one. What +does [_Indicating picture on bed with thumb._] this fellow out there +do for you? Send you long letters of condolences? That's what I used +to get. When I wanted to buy a new pair of shoes or a silk petticoat, +he told me how much he loved me; so I had the other ones re-soled and +turned the old petticoat. And look at you, you're beginning to show +it. [_She surveys her carefully._] I do believe there are lines coming +in your face [LAURA _crosses to dresser quickly, picks up hand mirror, +and looks at herself._], and you hide in the house because you've +nothing new to wear. + +LAURA. [_Puts down mirror, crossing down to back of bed._] But I've +got what you haven't got. I may have to hide my clothes, but I don't +have to hide my face. And you with that man--he's old enough to be +your father--a toddling dote hanging on your apron-strings. I don't +see how you dare show your face to a decent woman. + +ELFIE. [_Rises._] You don't!--but you did once and I never caught you +hanging your head. You say he's old. I know he's old, but he's good to +me. He's making what's left of my life pleasant. You think I like him. +I don't,--sometimes I hate him,--but he understands; and you can bet +your life his check is in my mail every Saturday night or there's a +new lock on the door Sunday morning. [_Crossing to fireplace._ + +LAURA. How can you say such things to me? + +ELFIE. [_Crosses to left end of table._] Because I want you to be +square with yourself. You've lost all that precious virtue women gab +about. When you've got the name, I say get the game. + +LAURA. You can go now, Elfie, and don't come back. + +ELFIE. [_Gathering up muff, &c._] All right, if that's the way you +want it to be, I'm sorry. [_A knock on the door._ + +LAURA. [_Controlling herself after a moment's hesitation._] Come in. + +ANNIE _enters with a note, crosses, and hands it to_ LAURA. + +ANNIE. Mis' Farley sent dis, Miss Laura. + +[LAURA _takes the note and reads it. She is palpably annoyed_. + +LAURA. There's no answer. + +ANNIE. She tol' me not to leave until Ah got an answah. + +LAURA. You must ask her to wait. + +ANNIE. She wants an answah. + +LAURA. Tell her I'll be right down--that it will be all right. + +ANNIE. But, Miss Laura, she tol' me to get an answah. + +[_Exit reluctantly_. + +LAURA. [_Half to herself and half to_ ELFIE.] She's taking advantage +of your being here. [_Standing near door_. + +ELFIE. How? + +LAURA. She wants money--three weeks' room-rent. I presume she thought +you'd give it to me. + +ELFIE. Huh! [_Moves to left_. + +LAURA. [_Crossing to table_.] Elfie, I've been a little cross; I +didn't mean it. + +ELFIE. Well? + +LAURA. Could--could you lend me thirty-five dollars until I get to +work? + +ELFIE. Me? + +LAURA. Yes. + +ELFIE. Lend _you_ thirty-five dollars? + +LAURA. Yes; you've got plenty of money to spare. + +ELFIE. Well, you certainly have got a nerve. + +LAURA. You might give it to me. I haven't a dollar in the world, and +you pretend to be such a friend to me! + +ELFIE. [_Turning and angrily speaking across table_.] So that's the +kind of woman you are, eh? A moment ago you were going to kick me out +of the place because I wasn't decent enough to associate with you. +You know how I live. You know how I get my money--the same way you got +most of yours. And now that you've got this spasm of goodness I'm not +fit to be in your room; but you'll take my money to pay your debts. +You'll let me go out and do this sort of thing for your benefit, while +you try to play the grand lady. I've got your number now, Laura. Where +in hell is your virtue anyway? You can go to the devil--rich, poor, or +any other way. I'm off! ELFIE _rushes toward door; for a moment_ LAURA +_stands speechless, then bursts into hysterics_. + +LAURA. Elfie! Elfie! Don't go now! Don't leave me now! [ELFIE +_hesitates with hand on door-knob_.] I can't stand it. I can't be +alone. Don't go, please; don't go. + +LAURA _falls into_ ELFIE'S _arms, sobbing. In a moment_ ELFIE'S _whole +demeanour changes and she melts into the tenderest womanly sympathy, +trying her best to express herself in her crude way_. + +ELFIE. There, old girl, don't cry, don't cry. You just sit down here +and let me put my arms around you. [ELFIE _leads_ LAURA _over to +armchair, places muff, &c., in chair, and sits_ LAURA _down in chair_. +ELFIE _sits on right arm of chair with her left arm behind_ LAURA; +_hugs_ LAURA _to her_. LAURA _in tears and sobbing during scene_.] +I'm awful sorry--on the level, I am. I shouldn't have said it. I know +that. But I've got feelings too, even if folks don't give me credit +for it. + +LAURA. I know, Elfie. I've gone through about all I can stand. + +ELFIE. Well, I should say you have--and more than I would. Anyway a +good cry never hurts any woman. I have one myself, sometimes--under +cover. + +LAURA. [_More seriously, recovering herself_.] Perhaps what you said +was true. + +ELFIE. We won't talk about it. + +[_Wiping_ LAURA'S _eyes and kissing her_. + +LAURA. [_With persistence_.] But perhaps it was true, and, Elfie-- + +ELFIE. Yes. + +LAURA. I think I've stood this just as long as I can. Every day is a +living horror. + +ELFIE. [_Looking around room_.] It's the limit. + +LAURA. I've got to have money to pay the rent. I've pawned everything +I have, except the clothes on my back. + +ELFIE. I'll give you all the money you need, dearie. Great heavens, +don't worry about that. Don't you care if I got sore and--and lost my +head. + +LAURA. No; I can't let you do that. [_Rises; crosses to table_.] You +may have been mad,--awfully mad,--but what you said was the truth. I +can't take your money. [_Sits right of table_. + +ELFIE. Oh, forget that. [_Rises, crosses to centre_. + +LAURA. Maybe--maybe if he knew all about it--the suffering--he +wouldn't blame me. + +ELFIE. Who--the good man who wanted to lead you to the good life +without even a bread-basket for an advance-agent? Huh! + +LAURA. Still he doesn't know how desperately poor I am. + +ELFIE. He knows you're out of work, don't he? + +LAURA. [_Turning to_ ELFIE.] Not exactly. I've let him think that I'm +getting along all right. + +ELFIE. Then you're a chump. Hasn't he sent you anything? + +LAURA. He hasn't anything to send. + +ELFIE. Well, what does he think you're going to live on?--asphalt +croquettes with conversation sauce? + +LAURA. I don't know--I don't know. [_Sobbing_. + +ELFIE. [_Crosses to_ LAURA, _puts arms around her_.] Don't be foolish, +dearie. You know there is somebody waiting for you--somebody who'll be +good to you and get you out of this mess. + +LAURA. You mean Will Brockton? [_Looking up_. + +ELFIE. Yes. + +LAURA. Do you know where he is? + +ELFIE. Yes. + +LAURA. Well? + +ELFIE. You won't get sore again if I tell you, will you? + +LAURA. No--why? [_Rises_. + +ELFIE. He's downstairs--waiting in the car. I promised to tell him +what you said. + +LAURA. Then it was all planned, and--and-- + +ELFIE. Now, dearie, I knew you were up against it, and I wanted to +bring you two together. He's got half of the Burgess shows, and if +you'll only see him everything will be fixed. + +LAURA. When does he want to see me? + +ELFIE. Now. + +LAURA. Here? + +ELFIE. Yes. Shall I tell him to come up? + +LAURA. [_After a long pause, crossing around to bed, down-stage +side_.] Yes. + +ELFIE. [_Suddenly becomes animated_.] Now you're a sensible dear. I'll +bet he's half frozen down there. [_Goes to door_.] I'll send him up. +Look at you, Laura, you're a sight. [_Crosses to_ LAURA, _takes her +by hand, leads her up to washstand, takes towel and wipes_ LAURA'S +_eyes_.] It'll never do to have him see you looking like this; come +over here and let me fix your eyes. Now, Laura, I want you to promise +me you won't do any more crying. [_Leads_ LAURA _over to dresser, +takes powder-puff and powders_ LAURA'S _face_.] Come over here and let +me powder your nose. Now when he comes up you tell him he has got to +blow us all off to a dinner to-night at Martin's, seven-thirty. Let me +look at you. Now you're all right. [_After daubing_ LAURA'S _face with +the rouge paw_, ELFIE _takes_ LAURA'S _face in her hands and kisses +her_.] Make it strong now, seven-thirty, don't forget. I'll be there. +[_Crosses to armchair, gathers up muff, &c_.] So long. + +[_Exit_. + +_After_ ELFIE'S _exit_ LAURA _crosses slowly to wardrobe, pulls off +picture of_ JOHN; _crosses to dresser, takes picture of_ JOHN _from +there; carries both pictures over to bed; kneels on bed, pulls down +picture at head of bed; places all three pictures under pillow_. WILL +_is heard coming upstairs, and knocks_. + +LAURA. Come in. + +WILL _enters. His dress is that of a man of business, the time being +about February. He is well groomed and brings with him the impression +of easy luxury_. + +WILL. [_As he enters_.] Hello, Laura. + +_There is an obvious embarrassment on the part of each of them. She +rises, goes to him and extends her hand_. + +LAURA. I'm--I'm glad to see you, Will. + +WILL. Thank you. + +LAURA. Won't you sit down? + +WILL. [_Regaining his ease of manner_.] Thank you again. + +[_Puts hat and cane at end of wardrobe; removes overcoat and places it +on back of armchair; sits in armchair_. + +LAURA. [_Sits right of table_.] It's rather cold out, isn't it? + +WILL. Just a bit sharp. + +LAURA. You came with Elfie in the car? + +WILL. She picked me up at Martin's; we lunched there. + +LAURA. By appointment? + +WILL. I'd asked her. + +LAURA. Well? + +WILL. Well, Laura. + +LAURA. She told you? + +WILL. Not a great deal. What do you want to tell me? + +LAURA. [_Very simply, and avoiding his glance_.] Will, I'm ready to +come back. + +WILL. [_With an effort concealing his sense of triumph and +satisfaction. Rises, crosses to_ LAURA.] I'm mighty glad of that, +Laura. I've missed you like the very devil. + +LAURA. Do we--do we have to talk it over much? + +[_Crosses to left of table in front of bed_. + +WILL. Not at all unless you want to. I understand--in fact, I always +have. + +LAURA. [_Wearily_.] Yes, I guess you always did. I didn't. + +[_Crosses and sits right of table_. + +WILL. It will be just the same as it was before, you know. + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. I didn't think it was possible for me to miss anyone the way I +have you. I've been lonely. + +LAURA. That's nice in you to say that. + +WILL. You'll have to move out of here right away. [_Crossing to back +of table, surveying room_.] This place is enough to give one the +colly-wabbles. If you'll be ready to-morrow I'll send my man over to +help you take care of the luggage. + +LAURA. To-morrow will be all right, thank you. + +WILL. And you'll need some money in the meantime. I'll leave this +here. + +[_He takes a roll of bills and places it on the bureau_. + +LAURA. You seem to have come prepared. Did Elfie and you plan this all +out? + +WILL. Not planned--just hoped. I think you'd better go to some nice +hotel now. Later we can arrange. + +[_Sits on up-stage side of bed_. + +LAURA. Will, we'll always be frank. I said I was ready to go. It's up +to you--when and where. + +WILL. The hotel scheme is the best, but, Laura-- + +LAURA. Yes? + +WILL. You're quite sure this is in earnest. You don't want to change? +You've time enough now. + +LAURA. I've quite made up my mind. It's final. + +WILL. If you want to work, Burgess has a nice part for you. I'll +telephone and arrange if you say so. + +LAURA. Thanks. Say I'll see him in the morning. + +WILL. And, Laura, you know when we were in Denver, and-- + +LAURA. [_Rises hurriedly; crosses right_.] Please, please, don't speak +of it. + +WILL. I'm sorry, but I've got to. I told [_Rises, and crosses to +left_.] Madison [LAURA _turns her head_.]--pardon me, but I must do +this--that if this time ever came I'd have you write him the truth. +Before we go any further I'd like you to do that now. + +LAURA. Say good-bye? [_Turns to_ WILL. + +WILL. Just that. + +LAURA. I wouldn't know how to begin. It will hurt him awfully deeply. + +WILL. It'll be worse if you don't. He'll like you for telling him. It +would be honest, and that is what he expects. + +LAURA. Must I--now? + +WILL. I think you should. + +LAURA. [_Goes to table and sits down_.] How shall I begin, Will? + +WILL. [_Standing back of table_.] You mean you don't know what to say? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. Then I'll dictate. + +LAURA. I'll do just as you say. You're the one to tell me now. + +WILL. Address it the way you want to. [_She complies_.] I'm going to +be pretty brutal. In the long run I think that is best, don't you? + +LAURA. It's up to you. + +WILL. Ready? + +LAURA. Begin. + +WILL. [_Dictating_.] "All I have to say can be expressed in one word, +'good-bye.' I shall not tell you where I've gone, but remind you +of what Brockton told you the last time he saw you. He is here now +[_Pause_.], dictating this letter. What I am doing is voluntary--my +own suggestion. Don't grieve. Be happy and successful. I do not love +you"-- + +[_She puts pen down; looks at him_. + +LAURA. Will--please. + +WILL. It has got to go just that way--"I do not love you." Sign +it "Laura." [_She does it_.] Fold it, put it in an envelope--seal +it--address it. Now shall I mail it? + +LAURA. No. If you don't mind I'd sooner. It's a sort of a last--last +message. + +WILL. [_Crosses to armchair; gets coat, puts it on_.] All right. +You're a little upset now, and I'm going. We are all to dine at +Martin's to-night at seven-thirty. There'll be a party. Of course +you'll come. [_Gets hat and cane_. + +LAURA. I don't think I can. You see-- + +WILL. I know. I guess there's enough there [_Indicating money_.] for +your immediate needs. Later you can straighten things up. Shall I send +the car? + +LAURA. Yes, please. + +WILL. Good. It will be the first happy evening I've had in a long, +long time. You'll be ready? + +[_Approaches and bends over her as if to caress her_. + +LAURA. [_Shrinking away_.] Please don't. Remember we don't dine until +seven-thirty. + +WILL. All right. [_Exit_. + +_For a moment_ LAURA _sits silent, and then angrily rises, crosses +up to dresser, gets alcohol lamp, crosses to table with lamp, lights +same, and starts back to dresser. Knock at door_. + +LAURA. Come in. [ANNIE _enters, and stops_.] That you, Annie? + +ANNIE. Yassum. + +LAURA. Mrs. Farley wants her rent. There is some money. [_Tosses money +on to table_.] Take it to her. + +ANNIE _goes to the table, examines the roll of bills and is palpably +surprised_. + +ANNIE. Dey ain't nothin' heah, Miss Laura, but five great big one +hunderd dollah bills. + +LAURA. Take two. And look in that upper drawer. You'll find some pawn +tickets there. [ANNIE _complies_. + +ANNIE. Yassum. [_Aside_.] Dat's real money--dem's yellow-backs sure. + +LAURA. Take the two top ones and go get my lace gown and one of +the hats. The ticket is for a hundred and ten dollars. Keep ten for +yourself, and hurry. + +ANNIE. [_Aside_.] Ten for myself--I never see so much money. [_To_ +LAURA, _her astonishment nearly overcoming her_.] Yassum, Miss Laura, +yassum. [_She goes toward door, and then turns to_ LAURA.] Ah'm so +mighty glad yo' out all yo' trouble, Miss Laura. I says to Mis' Farley +now-- + +LAURA. [_Snapping her off_.] Don't--don't. Go do as I tell you and +mind your business. [ANNIE _turns sullenly and walks toward the door. +At that moment_ LAURA _sees the letter, which she has thrown on the +table_.] Wait a minute. I want you to mail a letter. [_By this time +her hair is half down, hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her waist +is open at the throat, collar off, and she has the appearance of a +woman's untidiness when she is at that particular stage of her toilet. +Hands letter to_ ANNIE, _but snatches it away as_ ANNIE _turns to +go. She glances at the letter long and wistfully, and her nerve fails +her_.] Never mind. + +ANNIE _exits. Slowly_ LAURA _puts the letter over the flame of the +alcohol lamp and it ignites. As it burns she holds it in her fingers, +and when half consumed throws it into waste-jar, sits on side of bed +watching letter burn, then lies down across bed on her elbows, her +chin in her hands, facing audience. As the last flicker is seen the +curtain slowly descends_. + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III. + + +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. + + + + +ACT IV. + + +SCENE. _The same scene as Act III. It is about two o'clock in the +afternoon._ + +AT RISE. _When the curtain rises, there are two big trunks and one +small one up stage. These are marked in the usual theatrical fashion. +There are grips packed, umbrellas, and the usual paraphernalia that +accompanies a woman when she is making a permanent departure from +her place of living. All the bric-à -brac, &c., has been removed +from dresser. On down-stage end of dresser is a small alligator +bag containing night-dress, toilet articles, and bunch of keys. +The dresser drawers are some of them half open, and old pieces of +tissue-paper and ribbons are hanging out. The writing-desk has had all +materials removed and is open, showing scraps of torn-up letters, and +in one pigeon-hole is a New York Central time-table; between desk and +bay-window is a lady's hat-trunk containing huge picture hat. It is +closed. Behind table is a suit-case with which_ ANNIE _is working when +curtain rises. Under desk are two old millinery boxes, around which +are scattered old tissue-paper, a pair of old slippers, a woman's +shabby hat, old ribbon, &c. In front of window at end of pianola is +thrown a lot of old empty boxes, such as are used for stocking and +shirtwaist boxes. The picture-frame and basket of flowers have been +removed from pianola. The stool is on top of pianola, upside down. +There is an empty White Rock bottle, with glass turned over it, +standing between the legs of the stool. The big trunk is in front +of sofa, and packed, and it has a swing tray under which is packed a +fancy evening gown; the lid is down. On top of lid are an umbrella, +lady's travelling-coat, hat and gloves. On left end of sofa are a +large Gladstone bag, packed and fastened, a smaller trunk (thirty-four +inch), tray with lid. In tray are articles of wearing apparel. In +end of tray is revolver wrapped in tissue-paper. Trunk is closed, and +supposed to be locked. Tossed across left arm of armchair are couple +of violet cords. Down stage centre is a large piece of wide tan +ribbon. The room has the general appearance of having been stripped of +all personal belongings. There are old magazines and tissue-paper +all over the place. A bearskin rug is thrown up against table in low +window, the furniture is all on stage as used in Act III. At rise_ +LAURA _is sitting on trunk with clock in hand._ ANNIE _is on floor +behind table, fastening suit-case._ LAURA _is pale and perturbed._ + +ANNIE. Ain't yuh goin' to let me come to yuh at all, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. I don't know yet, Annie. I don't even know what the place is +like that we're going to. Mr. Madison hasn't said much. There hasn't +been time. + +ANNIE. Why, Ah've done ma best for yuh, Miss Laura, yes, Ah have. Ah +jest been with yuh ev'ry moment of ma time, an' [_Places suit-case on +table; crosses to centre._] Ah worked for yuh an' Ah loved yuh, an' Ah +doan' wan' to be left 'ere all alone in dis town 'ere New York. [LAURA +_turns to door;_ ANNIE _stoops, grabs up ribbon, hides it behind her +back._] Ah ain't the kind of cullud lady knows many people. Can't yuh +take me along wid yuh, Miss Laura?--yuh all been so good to me. + +LAURA. Why, I told you to [_Crosses to door, looks out, returns +disappointed._] stay here and get your things together [ANNIE _hides +ribbon in front of her waist._], and then Mr. Brockton will probably +want you to do something. Later, I think he'll have you pack up, just +as soon as he finds I'm gone. I've got the address that you gave me. +I'll let you know if you can come on. + +ANNIE. [_Suddenly._] Ain't yuh goin' to give me anything at all jes' +to remembuh yuh by? Ah've been so honest-- + +LAURA. Honest? + +ANNIE. Honest, Ah have. + +LAURA. You've been about as honest as most coloured [_Crosses to +table; gets suit-case; crosses to sofa end puts suit-case on it._] +girls are who work for women in the position that I am in. You haven't +stolen enough to make me discharge you, but I've seen what you've +taken. [_Sits on end of sofa facing left._ + +ANNIE. Now, Miss Laura. + +LAURA. Don't try to fool me. What you've got you're welcome to, but +for heaven's sake don't prate around here about loyalty and honesty. +I'm sick of it. + +ANNIE. Ain't yuh goin' to give me no recommendation? + +LAURA. [_Impatiently looking around the room._] What good would my +recommendation do? You can always go and get another position with +people who've lived the way I've lived, and my recommendation to the +other kind wouldn't amount to much. + +ANNIE. [_Sits on trunk._] Ah can just see whah Ah'm goin',--back to +dat boa'din'-house in 38th Street fo' me. [_Crying._ + +LAURA. Now shut your noise. I don't want to hear any more. I've given +you twenty-five dollars for a present. I think that's enough. + +[ANNIE _assumes a most aggrieved appearance._ + +ANNIE. Ah know, but twenty-five dollars ain't a home, and I'm [_Rises, +crosses to rubbish heap, picks up old slippers and hat, puts hat on +head as she goes out, looks into pier-glass._] losin' my home. Dat's +jest my luck--every time I save enough money to buy my weddin' clothes +to get married I lose my job. + +[_Exit._ + +LAURA. I wonder where John is. We'll never be able to make that train. +[_She crosses to window, then to desk, takes out time-table, crosses +to armchair and spreads time-table on back, studies it, crosses +impatiently to trunk, and sits nervously kicking her feet. After a few +seconds' pause the bell rings. She jumps up excitedly._] That must be +he,--Annie--go quick. [ANNIE _crosses and opens the door in the usual +manner._ + +JIM'S VOICE. [_Outside._] Is Miss Murdock in? + +ANNIE. Yassuh, she's in. + +LAURA _is up stage and turns to receive visitor._ JIM _enters. He is +nicely dressed in black and has an appearance of prosperity about him, +but in other respects he retains the old drollness of enunciation +and manner. He crosses to_ LAURA _in a cordial way and holds out his +hand._ ANNIE _crosses, after closing the door, and exits through the +portières into the sleeping-apartment._ + +JIM. How-dy-do, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. Jim Western, I'm mighty glad to see you. + +JIM. Looks like as if you were going to move? + +LAURA. Yes, I am going to move, and a long ways, too. How well you're +looking,--as fit as a fiddle. + +JIM. Yes; I am feelin' fine. Where yer goin'? Troupin'? + +LAURA. No, indeed. + +JIM. [_Surveying the baggage._] Thought not. What's comin' off now? +[_Takes off coat, puts coat and hat on trunk._ + +LAURA. [_Very simply._] I'm going to be married this afternoon. + +JIM. Married? + +LAURA. And then I'm going West. + +JIM. [_Leaving the trunk, walking toward her and holding out his +hands._] Now I'm just glad to hear that. Ye know when I heard how--how +things was breakin' for ye--well, I ain't knockin' or anythin' like +that, but me and the missis have talked ye over a lot. I never did +think this feller was goin' to do the right thing by yer. Brockton +never looked to me like a fellow would marry anybody, but now that +he's goin' through just to make you a nice, respectable wife, I guess +everything must have happened for the best. [LAURA _averts her eyes. +Both sit on trunk,_ JIM _left of_ LAURA.] Y' see I wanted to thank you +for what you did a couple of weeks ago. Burgess wrote me a letter and +told me I could go ahead of one of his big shows if I wanted to come +back, and offering me considerable money. He mentioned your name, Miss +Laura, and I talked it over with the missis, and--well, I can tell ye +now when I couldn't if ye weren't to be hooked up--we decided that I +wouldn't take that job, comin' as it did from you [_Slowly._] and the +way I knew it was framed up. + +LAURA. Why not? + +JIM. [_Embarrassed._] Well, ye see, there are three kids and they're +all growing up, all of them in school, and the missis, she's just +about forgot show business and she's playing a star part in the +kitchen, juggling dishes and doing flip-flaps with pancakes; and we +figgered that as we'd always gone along kinder clean-like, it wouldn't +be good for the kids to take a job comin' from Brockton because +you--you--well--you-- + +LAURA. I know. [_Rises; sits on left arm of chair._] You thought it +wasn't decent. Is that it? + +JIM. Oh, not exactly, only--well, you see I'm gettin' along pretty +[_Rises; crosses to_ LAURA.] good now. I got a little one-night-stand +theatre out in Ohio--manager of it, too. The town is called +Gallipolis. [_With a smile._ + +LAURA. Gallipolis? + +JIM. Oh, that ain't a disease. It is the name of a town. Maybe you +don't know much about Gallipolis, or where it is. + +LAURA. No. + +JIM. Well, it looks just like it sounds. We got a little house, and +the old lady is happy, and I feel so good that I can even stand her +cookin'. Of course we ain't makin' much money, but I guess I'm gettin' +a little old-fashioned around theatres anyway. The fellows from +newspapers and colleges have got it on me. Last time I asked a man for +a job he asked me what I knew about the Greek drama, and when I told +him I didn't know the Greeks had a theatre in New York he slipped me +a laugh and told me to come in again on some rainy Tuesday. Then +Gallipolis showed on the map, and I beat it for the West. [JIM +_notices by this time the pain he has caused_ LAURA, _and is +embarrassed._] Sorry if I hurt ye--didn't mean to; and now that yer +goin' to be Mrs. Brockton, well, I take back all I said, and, while +I don't think I want to change my position, I wouldn't turn it down +for--for that other reason, that's all. + +LAURA. [_With a tone of defiance in her voice._] But, Mr. Weston, I'm +not going to be Mrs. Brockton. + +JIM. No? [_Crosses left a little._ + +LAURA. No. + +JIM. Oh--oh-- + +LAURA. I'm going to marry another man, and a good man. + +JIM. The hell you are! + +[LAURA _rises and puts hand on_ JIM'S _shoulder._ + +LAURA. And it's going to be altogether different. I know what you +meant when you said about the missis and the kids, and that's what I +want--just a little home, just a little peace, just a little comfort, +and--and the man has come who's going to give it to me. You don't want +me to say any more, do you? + +[_Crosses to door, opens it, and looks out; closes it and crosses to_ +JIM. + +JIM. [_Emphatically, and with a tone of hearty approval._] No, I +don't, and now I'm just going to put my mit out and shake yours and +be real glad. I want to tell ye it's the only way to go along. I +ain't never been a rival to Rockefeller, nor I ain't never made Morgan +jealous, but since the day my old woman took her make-up off for the +last time, and walked out of that stage-door to give me a little help +and bring my kids into the world, I knew that was the way to go along; +and if you're goin' to take that road, by Jiminy, I'm glad of it, for +you sure do deserve it. I wish yer luck. + +LAURA. Thank you. + +JIM. I'm mighty glad you side-stepped Brockton. You're young [LAURA +_sits on trunk._], and you're pretty, and you're sweet, and if you've +got the right kind of a feller there ain't no reason on earth why you +shouldn't jest forgit the whole business and see nothin' but laughs +and a good time comin' to you, and the sun sort o' shinin' every +twenty-four hours in the day. You know the missis feels just as if she +knew you, after I told her about them hard times we had at Farley's +boarding-house, so I feel that it's paid me to come to New York +[_Picks up pin; puts it in lapel of coat._] even if I didn't book +anything but "East Lynne" and "Uncle Tom's Cabin." [_Goes over to +her._] Now I'm goin'. Don't forget Gallipolis's [LAURA _helps him on +with his coat._] the name, and sometimes the mail does get there. I'd +be awful glad if you wrote the missis a little note tellin' us how +you're gettin' along, and if you ever have to ride on the Kanawha and +Michigan, just look out of the window when the train passes our town, +because that is about the best you'll get. + +LAURA. Why? + +JIM. They only stop there on signal. And make up your mind that the +Weston family is with you forty ways from the Jack day and night. +Good-bye, and God bless you. + +LAURA. Good-bye, Jim. I'm so glad to know you're happy, for it is good +to be happy. [_Kisses him._ + +JIM. You bet. [_Moves toward the door. She follows him after they have +shaken hands._] Never mind, I can get out all right. [_Opens the door, +and at the door:_] Good-bye again. + +LAURA. [_Very softly._] Good-bye. [_Exit_ JIM _and closes the door. +She stands motionless until she hears the outer door slam._] I wonder +why he doesn't come. [_She goes up and looks out of the window and +turns down stage, crosses right, counting trunks; as she counts +suitcase on table, bell rings; she crosses hurriedly to trunk +centre._] Hurry, Annie, and see who that is. + +ANNIE _enters, crosses, opens door, exits, and opens the outer door._ + +ANNIE'S VOICE. She's waitin' for yer, Mr. Madison. + +LAURA _hurries down to the centre of stage._ JOHN _enters, hat in +hand and his overcoat on arm, followed by_ ANNIE. _He stops just as +he enters and looks at_ LAURA _long and searchingly._ LAURA +_instinctively feels that something has happened. She shudders and +remains firm._ ANNIE _crosses and exits. Closes doors._ + +LAURA. [_With a little effort._ JOHN _places hat and coat on trunk._] +Aren't you a little late, dear? + +JOHN. I--I was detained down town a few minutes. I think that we can +carry out our plan all right. + +LAURA. [_After a pause._] Has anything happened? + +JOHN. I've made all the arrangements. The men will be here in a few +minutes for your trunks. [_Crosses to coat; feels in pocket._] I've +got the railroad tickets and everything else, but-- + +LAURA. But what, John? + +_He goes over to her. She intuitively understands that she is about +to go through an ordeal. She seems to feel that_ JOHN _has become +acquainted with something which might interfere with their plan. He +looks at her long and searchingly. Evidently he too is much wrought +up, but when he speaks to her it is with a calm dignity and force +which show the character of the man._ + +JOHN. Laura. + +LAURA. Yes? + +JOHN. You know when I went down town I said I was going to call on two +or three of my friends in Park Row. + +LAURA. I know. + +JOHN. I told them who I was going to marry. + +LAURA. Well? + +JOHN. They said something about you and Brockton, and I found that +they'd said too much, but not quite enough. + +LAURA. What did they say? + +JOHN. Just that--too much and not quite enough. There's a minister +waiting for us over on Madison Avenue. You see, then you'll be my +wife. That's pretty serious business, and all I want now from you is +the truth. + +LAURA. Well? + +JOHN. Just tell me that what they said was just an echo of the +past--that it came from what had been going on before that wonderful +day out in Colorado. Tell me that you've been on the level. I don't +want their word, Laura--I just want yours. + +LAURA _summons all her courage, looks up into his loving eyes, shrinks +a moment before his anxious face, and speaks as simply as she can._ + +LAURA. Yes, John, I have been on the level. + +JOHN. [_Very tenderly._] I knew that, dear, I knew it. [_He takes her +in his arms and kisses her. She clings to him in pitiful helplessness. +His manner is changed to one of almost boyish happiness._] Well, now +everything's all ready, let's get on the job. We haven't a great deal +of time. Get your duds on. + +LAURA. When do we go? + +JOHN. Right away. The great idea is to get away. + +LAURA. All right. + +[_Gets hat off trunk, crosses to bureau, puts it on._ + +JOHN. Laura, you've got trunks enough, haven't you? One might think +we're moving a whole colony. [_Turns to her with a smile._] And, by +the way, to me you are a whole colony--anyway you're the only one I +ever wanted to settle with. + +LAURA. That's good. [_Takes bag off bureau, crosses to trunk, gets +purse, coat, umbrella, as if ready to leave. She hurriedly gathers her +things together, adjusting her hat and the like, and almost to herself +in a low tone:_] I'm so excited. [_Continues preparations._] Come on. + +_In the meantime_ JOHN _crosses by to get his hat and coat, and while +the preparations are about to be completed and_ LAURA _has said "Come +on," she is transfixed by the noise of the slamming of the outer door. +She stops as if she had been tremendously shocked, and a moment later +the rattling of a latch-key in the inner door also stops_ JOHN _from +going any further. His coat is half on._ LAURA _looks toward the door, +paralyzed with fright, and_ JOHN _looks at her with an expression of +great apprehension. Slowly the door opens, and_ BROCKTON _enters with +coat and hat on. As he turns to close the door after him,_ LAURA, +_pitifully and terribly afraid, retreats two or three steps, and +lays coat, bag, purse and umbrella down in armchair, standing dazed._ +BROCKTON _enters leisurely, paying no attention to anyone, while_ JOHN +_becomes as rigid as a statue, and follows with his eyes every move_ +BROCKTON _makes. The latter walks leisurely across the stage, and +afterwards into the rooms through the portières. There is a wait of +a second. No one moves._ BROCKTON _finally reënters with coat and hat +off, and throws back the portières in such a manner as to reveal the +bed and his intimate familiarity with the outer room. He goes down +stage in the same leisurely manner and sits in a chair opposite_ JOHN, +_crossing his legs._ + +WILL. Hello, Madison, when did you get in? + +_Slowly_ JOHN _seems to recover himself. His right hand starts up +toward the lapel of his coat and slowly he pulls his Colt revolver +from the holster under his armpit. There is a deadly determination and +deliberation in every movement that he makes._ WILL _jumps to his feet +and looks at him. The revolver is uplifted in the air, as a Western +man handles a gun, so that when it is snapped down with a jerk the +deadly shot can be fired._ LAURA _is terror-stricken, but before +the shot is fired she takes a step forward and extends one hand in a +gesture of entreaty._ + +LAURA. [_In a husky voice that is almost a whisper._] Don't shoot. + +_The gun remains uplifted for a moment._ JOHN _is evidently wavering +in his determination to kill. Slowly his whole frame relaxes. He +lowers the pistol in his hand in a manner which clearly indicates that +he is not going to shoot. He quietly puts it back in the holster, and_ +WILL _is obviously relieved, although he stood his ground like a man._ + +JOHN. [_Slowly._] Thank you. You said that just in time. + +[_A pause._ + +WILL. [_Recovering and in a light tone._] Well, you see, Madison, that +what I said when I was-- + +JOHN. [_Threateningly._] Look out, Brockton, I don't want to talk to +you. [_The men confront._ + +WILL. All right. + +JOHN. [_To_ LAURA.] Now get that man out of here. + +LAURA. John, I-- + +JOHN. Get him out. Get him out before I lose my temper or they'll take +him out without his help. + +LAURA. [_To_ WILL.] Go--go. Please go. + +WILL. [_Deliberately._] If that's the way you want it, I'm willing. + +_Exit_ WILL _into the sleeping-apartment._ LAURA _and_ JOHN _stand +facing each other. He enters again with hat and coat on, and passes +over toward the door._ LAURA _and_ JOHN _do not move. When he gets +just a little to the left of the centre of the stage_ LAURA _steps +forward and stops him with her speech._ + +LAURA. Now before you go, and to you both, I want to tell you how I've +learned to despise him. John, I know you don't believe me, but it's +true--it's true. I don't love anyone in the world but just you. I +know you don't think that it can be explained--maybe there isn't any +explanation. I couldn't help it. I was so poor, and I had to live, and +he wouldn't let me work, and he's only let me live one way, and I +was hungry. Do you know what that means? I was hungry and didn't have +clothes to keep me warm, and I tried, oh, John, I tried so hard to do +the other thing,--the right thing,--but I couldn't. + +JOHN. I--I know I couldn't help much, and perhaps I could have +forgiven you if you hadn't lied to me. That's what hurt. [_Turning to_ +WILL _and approaching until he can look him in the eyes._] I expected +you to lie, you're that kind of a man. You left me with a shake of the +hand, and you gave me your word, and you didn't keep it. Why should +you keep it? Why should anything make any difference with you? Why, +you pup, you've no right to live in the same world with decent folks. +Now you make yourself scarce, or take it from me, I'll just kill you, +that's all. + +WILL. I'll leave, Madison, but I'm not going to let you think that I +didn't do the right thing with you. She came to me voluntarily. She +said she wanted to come back. I told you that, when I was in Colorado, +and you didn't believe me, and I told you that when she did this sort +of thing I'd let you know. I dictated a letter to her to send to you, +and I left it sealed and stamped in her hands to mail. She didn't do +it. If there's been a lie, she told it. I didn't. + +JOHN _turns to her. She hangs her head and averts her eyes in a mute +acknowledgment of guilt. The revelation hits_ JOHN _so hard that +he sinks on the trunk centre, his head fallen to his breast. He is +utterly limp and whipped. There is a moment's silence._ + +WILL. [_Crosses to_ JOHN.] You see! Why, my boy, whatever you think +of me or the life I lead, I wouldn't have had this come to you for +anything in the world. [JOHN _makes an impatient gesture._] No, I +wouldn't. My women don't mean a whole lot to me because I don't take +them seriously. I wish I had the faith and the youth to feel the way +you do. You're all in and broken up, but I wish I could be broken +up just once. I did what I thought was best for you because I didn't +think she could ever go through the way you wanted her to. I'm sorry +it's all turned out bad. [_Pause._] Good-bye. + +_He looks at_ JOHN _for a moment as if he was going to speak._ JOHN +_remains motionless. The blow has hit him harder than he thought._ +WILL _exits. The first door closes. In a moment the second door is +slammed._ JOHN _and_ LAURA _look at each other for a moment. He gives +her no chance to speak. The hurt in his heart and his accusation are +shown by his broken manner. A great grief has come into his life and +he doesn't quite understand it. He seems to be feeling around for +something to say, some way to get out. His head turns toward the door. +With a pitiful gesture of the hand he looks at her in all his sorrow._ + +JOHN. Well? [_Rises._ + +LAURA. John, I--[_Takes off hat and places it on table._ + +JOHN. I'd be careful what I said. Don't try to make excuses. I +understand. + +LAURA. It's not excuses. I want to tell you what's in my heart, but I +can't; it won't speak, and you don't believe my voice. + +JOHN. You'd better leave it unsaid. + +LAURA. But I must tell. I can't let you go like this. [_She goes over +to him and makes a weak attempt to put her arms around him. He takes +her arms and puts them back to her side._] I love you. I--how can I +tell you--but I do, I do, and you won't believe me. + +_He remains silent for a moment and then takes her by the hand, leads +her over to the chair and places her in it._ + +JOHN. I think you do as far as you are able; but, Laura, I guess you +don't know what a decent sentiment is. [_He gathers himself together. +His tone is very gentle and very firm, but it carries a tremendous +conviction, even with his grief ringing through his speech._] Laura, +you're not immoral, you're just unmoral, kind o' all out of shape, and +I'm afraid there isn't a particle of hope for you. When we met neither +of us had any reason to be proud, but I thought that you thought that +it was the chance of salvation which sometimes comes to a man and a +woman fixed as we were then. What had been had been. It was all in the +great to-be for us, and now, how you've kept your word! What little +that promise meant, when I thought you handed me a new lease of life! + +LAURA. [_In a voice that is changed and metallic. She is literally +being nailed to the cross._] You're killing me--killing me. + +JOHN. Don't make such a mistake. In a month you'll recover. There will +be days when you will think of me, just for a moment, and then it +will be all over. With you it is the easy way, and it always will be. +You'll go on and on until you're finally left a wreck, just the type +of the common woman. And you'll sink until you're down to the very +bed-rock of depravity. I pity you. + +LAURA. [_Still in the same metallic tone of voice._] You'll never +leave me to do that. I'll kill myself. + +JOHN. Perhaps that's the only thing left for you to do, but you'll not +do it. It's easier to live. [_Crosses, gets hat and coat, turns and +looks at her,_ LAURA _rising at the same time._ + +LAURA. John, I said I'd kill myself, and I mean it. If it's the only +thing to do, I'll do it, and I'll do it before your very eyes. [_She +crosses quickly, gets keys out of satchel, opens trunk, takes gun out +of trunk, stands facing_ JOHN--_waiting a moment._] You understand +that when your hand touches that door I'm going to shoot myself. I +will, so help me God! + +JOHN. [_Stops and looks at her._] Kill yourself? [_Pause._] Before me? +[_Pause._] All right. [_Raising his voice._] Annie, Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Enters._] Yes, sir. + +JOHN. [LAURA _looks at_ JOHN _in bewilderment._] You see your mistress +there has a pistol in her hand? + +ANNIE. [_Frightened._] Yassuh-- + +JOHN. She wants to kill herself. I just called you to witness that the +act is entirely voluntary on her part. Now, Laura, go ahead. + +LAURA. [_Nearly collapsing, drops the pistol to the floor._] John, +I--can't-- + +JOHN. Annie, she's evidently changed her mind. You may go. + +ANNIE. But, Miss Laura, Ah-- + +JOHN. [_Peremptorily._] You may go. [_Bewildered and not +understanding,_ ANNIE _exits through the portières. In that same +gentle tone, but carrying with it an almost frigid conviction._] You +didn't have the nerve. I knew you wouldn't. For a moment you thought +the only decent thing for you to do was to die, and yet you couldn't +go through. I am sorry for you,--more sorry than I can tell. [_He +takes a step towards the door._ + +LAURA. You're going--you're going? + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. And--and--you never thought that perhaps I'm frail, and weak, +and a woman, and that now, maybe, I need your strength, and you might +give it to me, and it might be better. I want to lean on you,--lean +on you, John. I know I need someone. Aren't you going to let me? Won't +you give me another chance? + +JOHN. I gave you your chance, Laura. + +LAURA. [_Throws arms around his neck._] Give me another. + +JOHN. But you leaned the wrong way. Good-bye. + +[_He pulls away and goes out, slamming both doors._ + +LAURA. [_Screaming._] John--John--I--[_She sits on trunk, weeping in +loud and tearful manner; rises in a dazed fashion, starts to cross, +sees gun, utters loud cry of mingled despair and anger, grabs up gun, +crossing to bureau, opens up-stage drawer, throws gun in, slams drawer +shut, calling:_] Annie! Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Appears through the portières._] Ain't yuh goin' away, Miss +Laura? + +LAURA. [_Suddenly arousing herself, and with a defiant voice._] No, +I'm not. I'm going to stay right here. [ANNIE _crosses and opens +trunk, takes out handsome dress, hangs it over back of armchair, +crosses up to hat-trunk, takes out hat._ LAURA _takes it from her, +crosses to trunk left, starts to unpack it._] Open these trunks, take +out those clothes, get me my prettiest dress. Hurry up. [_She goes +before the mirror._] Get my new hat, dress up my body and paint up my +face. It's all they've left of me. [_To herself._] They've taken my +soul away with them. + +ANNIE. [_In a happy voice._] Yassum, yassum. + +LAURA. [_Who is arranging her hair._] Doll me up, Annie. + +ANNIE. Yuh goin' out, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. Yes. I'm going to Rector's to make a hit, and to hell with the +rest! + +_At this moment the hurdy-gurdy in the street, presumably immediately +under her window, begins to play the tune of "Bon-Bon Buddie, My +Chocolate Drop." There is something in this ragtime melody which +is particularly and peculiarly suggestive of the low life, the +criminality and prostitution that constitute the night excitement of +that section of New York City known as the Tenderloin. The tune,--its +association,--is like spreading before_ LAURA'S _eyes a panorama of +the inevitable depravity that awaits her. She is torn from every ideal +that she so weakly endeavoured to grasp, and is thrown into the +mire and slime at the very moment when her emancipation seems to be +assured. The woman, with her flashy dress in one arm and her equally +exaggerated type of picture hat in the other, is nearly prostrated +by the tune and the realization of the future as it is terrifically +conveyed to her. The negress, in the happiness of serving_ LAURA +_in her questionable career, picks up the melody and hums it as she +unpacks the finery that has been put away in the trunk._ + +LAURA. [_With infinite grief, resignation, and hopelessness._] +O God--O my God. [_She turns and totters toward the bedroom. The +hurdy-gurdy continues, with the negress accompanying it._ + +A SLOW CURTAIN. + + +END OF THE PLAY. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Easiest Way, by Eugene Walter + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13050 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee93523 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #13050 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13050) diff --git a/old/13050-8.txt b/old/13050-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..51ac5f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13050-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5793 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Easiest Way, by Eugene Walter + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Easiest Way + Representative Plays by American Dramatists: 1856-1911 + +Author: Eugene Walter + +Release Date: July 29, 2004 [EBook #13050] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EASIEST WAY *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +THE EASIEST WAY + + + + +[Illustration: EUGENE WALTER] + + + + +EUGENE WALTER + +(Born, Cleveland, Ohio, November 27, 1874) + + +When questioned once regarding "The Easiest Way," Mr. Eugene Walter +said, "Incidentally, I do not think much of it. To my mind a good play +must have a tremendous uplift in thought and purpose. 'The Easiest +Way' has none of this. There is not a character in the play really +worth while, with the exception of the old agent. The rest, at best, +are not a particular adornment to society, and the strength of the +play lies in its true portrayal of the sordid type of life which it +expressed. As it is more or less purely photographic, I do not +think it should be given the credit of an inspiration--it is rather +devilishly clever, but a great work it certainly is not." + +Such was not the verdict of the first night audience, at the +Stuyvesant Theatre, New York, January 19, 1909. It was found to be +one of the most direct pieces of work the American stage had thus far +produced--disagreeably realistic, but purging--and that is the test of +an effective play--by the very poignancy of the tragic forces closing +in around the heroine. Though it is not as literary a piece of +dramatic expression as Pinero's "Iris," it is better in its effect; +because its relentlessness is due, not so predominantly to the moral +downgrade of the woman, as to the moral downgrade of a certain phase +of life which engulfs those nearest the centre of it. The play roused +a storm of comment; there were camps that took just the stand Mr. +Walter takes in the opening quotation. But the play is included in +this collection because its power, as a documentary report of a +phase of American stage life, is undeniable; because, as a piece of +workmanship, shorn of the usual devices called theatrical, it comes +down to the raw bone of the theme, and firmly progresses to its great +climax,--great in the sense of overpowering,--at the very fall of the +final curtain. + +Mr. Walter's various experiences in the theatre as an advance man, his +star reporting on the Detroit _News_, his struggles to gain a footing +in New York, contributed something to the bitter irony which runs as +a dark pattern through the texture of "The Easiest Way." He is one of +the many American dramatists who have come from the newspaper ranks, +having served on the Cleveland _Plain Dealer_ and _Press_, the New +York _Sun_ and _Globe_, the Cincinnati _Post_ and the Seattle _Star_. +Not many will disagree with the verdict that thus far he has not +excelled this play, though "Paid in Full" (February 25, 1908) +contains the same sting of modern life, which drives his characters to +situations dramatic and dire, making them sell their souls and their +peace of minds for the benefit of worldly ease and comfort. Note this +theme in "Fine Feathers" (January 7, 1913) and "Nancy Lee" (April 9, +1918). In this sense, his plays all possess a consistency which makes +no compromises. Arthur Ruhl, in his "Second Nights", refers to Walter +as of the "no quarter" school. He brings a certain manly subtlety to +bear on melodramatic subjects, as in "The Wolf" (April 18, 1908) and +"The Knife" (April 12, 1917); he seems to do as he pleases with his +treatment, as he did right at the start with his first successful +play. For, of "The Easiest Way" it may be said that, for the first +time in his managerial career, Mr. David Belasco agreed to accept +it with the condition that not a word of the manuscript should be +changed. + +It is interesting to note about Walter that, though he may now +repudiate it, "The Easiest Way" stands distinct in its class; perhaps +the dramatist has ripened more in technique--one immediately feels the +surety and vital grip of dramatic expertness in Walter, much more +so than in George Broadhurst, Bayard Veiller, or other American +dramatists of his class. But he has not surpassed "The Easiest Way" in +the burning intention with which it was written. + +As a dramatist, Walter adopts an interesting method; he tries out his +plays on the road, experimenting with various names, and re-casting +until ready for metropolitan production. His dramas have many +_aliases_, and it is a long case to prove an alibi; any student who +has attempted to settle dates will soon find that out. His military +play, written out of his experiences as a United States cavalryman in +the Spanish American War, was called "Boots and Saddles," after it +was given as "Sergeant James." "Fine Feathers," "The Knife," "The +Heritage," "Nancy Lee"--were all second or third choice as to name. + +In his advancement, Mr. Walter gives much credit to three American +managers--Kirke LaShelle, and the Selwyn brothers, Archie and Edgar. +It was the Selwyns who, during his various ventures in the "show +business," persuaded him to move to Shelter Island, and write "The +Undertow." It was in their house that "Paid in Full" was finished. Let +Mr. Walter continue the narrative: + + The circumstances under which "The Easiest Way" was written + are rather peculiar. When I was an advance-agent, ahead of + second-class companies, the need of money caused me to write a + one-act piece called "All the Way from Denver," which in time + I was able to dispose of. Later, after having written "Paid in + Full," I realized that in the play, "All the Way from Denver," + there was a situation or theme that might prove exceedingly + valuable in a four-act play. After discussing the + possibilities with Mr. Archie Selwyn, we concluded to write + it. In the meantime, the one-act piece had come into the + possession of Margaret Mayo, and through her, Mr. Edgar Selwyn + decided that the title should be "The Easiest Way" instead of + "All the Way from Denver." + + The play was then taken in its scenario form to Mr. C.B. + Dillingham, and discussed with him at length. This was prior + to the public presentation of "Paid in Full." I possessed + no particular reputation as a dramatic writer--in fact, the + Messrs. Selwyn--Archie and Edgar--were the only ones who took + me seriously, and thought me a possibility. Mr. Dillingham was + not particularly impressed with the piece, because he thought + it was much too broad in theme, and he did not like the idea + of slapping the managerial knuckles of the theatre. Further, + the obvious inference in "The Easiest Way," that _Laura_ was + kept out of work in order to be compelled to yield herself to + _Brockton_, was a point which did not appeal to him. However, + we had a working agreement with him, and later, Mr. Archie + Selwyn, in discussing the story of the play with Mr. David + Belasco, aroused his interest. The latter saw "Paid in Full" + and "The Wolf," and so he sent for me, with the result that + "The Easiest Way" was first produced in Hartford, Conn., on + December 31, 1908. Since its New York production, it has been + presented in nearly every country of the world. It has not + always met with commercial success, but it has always been + regarded as a play of representative importance. + +William Winter was one of the bitterest enemies of "The Easiest Way." +He placed it with "Zaza" and Brieux's "Three Daughters of M. Dupont." +As an opposite extreme view, we give the opinion of Mr. Walter Eaton, +written in 1909, concerning the play: "It places Mr. Walter as a +leader among our dramatists." In some respects, we may have surpassed +it since then, in imaginative ideality; but, as an example of +relentless realism, it still holds its own as a distinct contribution. +The text has been edited for private circulation, and it is this text +which is followed here. A few modifications, of a technical nature, +have been made in the stage directions; but even with these slight +changes, the directions are staccato, utilitarian in conciseness, +rather than literary in the Shaw sense. + + + + +DAVID BELASCO'S +STUYVESANT +THEATRE + +44th STREET +_near_ BROADWAY +_New York City_ + +Under the _sole_ +management of +DAVID BELASCO + +DAVID BELASCO +PRESENTS +FRANCES STARR +--IN-- +THE EASIEST WAY + +An American play concerning a peculiar phase of New York life. + +In Four Acts and Four Scenes. + +By EUGENE WALTER. + + +CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY + +JOHN MADISON EDWARD H. ROBINS + +WILLARD BROCKTON JOSEPH KILCOUR + +JIM WESTON WILLIAM SAMPSON + +LAURA MURDOCK FRANCES STARR + +ELFIE ST. CLAIR LAURA NELSON HALL + +ANNIE EMMA DUNN + +Program Continued on Second Page Following + +PROGRAM CONTINUED. + + * * * * * + +SYNOPSIS. + +ACT I.--Mrs. William's ranch house or country home, perched on +the side of the Ute Pass, near Colorado Springs, Colorado. +Time--Late in an August afternoon. + +ACT II.--Laura Murdock's furnished room, second story, back. +New York. +Time--Six months later. + +ACT III.--Laura Murdock's apartments in an expensive hotel. New +York. +Time--Two months later. In the morning. + +ACT IV.--The same at Act III. +Time--The same afternoon. + + * * * * * + +The play produced under the personal supervision of Mr. Belasco. + + * * * * * + +PROGRAM CONTINUED ON SECOND PAGE FOLLOWING. + + +PROGRAM CONTINUED. + +Stage Director William J. Dean +Stage Manager Langdon West + + * * * * * + +Stage decorations and accessories designed by Wilfred Buckland. + + * * * * * + +Scenes by Ernest Cross. + + * * * * * + + Scenery built by Charles J. Carson. + Electrical effects by Louis Harlman. +Gowns by Mollie O'Hara. Hats by Bendel. + + * * * * * + +The Pianola used is from the Aeolian Co., New York. + + + + +THE EASIEST WAY + +AN AMERICAN PLAY CONCERNING A + +PARTICULAR PHASE OF + +NEW YORK LIFE + +_IN FOUR ACTS AND FOUR SCENES_ + +By EUGENE WALTER + +1908 BY EUGENE WALTER + +[The Editor wishes to thank Mr. Eugene Walter for his courtesy in +granting permission to include "The Easiest Way" in the present +Collection. All its dramatic rights are fully secured, and proceedings +will immediately be taken against anyone attempting to infringe them.] + + + + +CHARACTERS. + +LAURA MURDOCK. +ELFIE ST. CLAIR. +ANNIE. +WILLARD BROCKTON. +JOHN MADISON. +JIM WESTON. + + + + +DESCRIPTION OF CHARACTERS. + + +LAURA MURDOCH, twenty-five years of age, is a type not uncommon in the +theatrical life of New York, and one which has grown in importance in +the profession since the business of giving public entertainments has +been so reduced to a commercial basis. + +At an early age she came from Australia to San Francisco. She +possessed a considerable beauty and an aptitude for theatrical +accomplishment which soon raised her to a position of more or less +importance in a local stock company playing in that city. A woman of +intense superficial emotions, her imagination was without any enduring +depths, but for the passing time she could place herself in an +attitude of great affection and devotion. Sensually, the woman had +marked characteristics, and, with the flattery that surrounded her, +she soon became a favourite in the select circles which made such +places as "The Poodle Dog" and "Zinkand's" famous. In general +dissipation, she was always careful not in any way to indulge in +excesses which would jeopardize her physical attractiveness, or for +one moment to diminish her sense of keen worldly calculation. + +In time she married. It was, of course, a failure. Her vacillating +nature was such that she could not be absolutely true to the man to +whom she had given her life, and, after several bitter experiences, +she had the horror of seeing him kill himself in front of her. There +was a momentary spasm of grief, a tidal wave of remorse, and then the +peculiar recuperation of spirits, beauty and attractiveness that +so marks this type of woman. She was deceived by other men in many +various ways, and finally came to that stage of life that is known in +theatrical circles as being "wised up." + +At nineteen, the attention of a prominent theatrical manager being +called to her, she took an important part in a New York production, +and immediately gained considerable reputation. The fact that, before +reaching the age of womanhood, she had had more escapades than most +women have in their entire lives was not generally known in New York, +nor was there a mark upon her face or a single coarse mannerism to +betray it. She was soft-voiced, very pretty, very girlish. Her keen +sense of worldly calculation led her to believe that in order to +progress in her theatrical career she must have some influence outside +of her art and dramatic accomplishment; so she attempted, with no +little success, to infatuate a hard-headed, blunt and supposedly +invincible theatrical manager, who, in his cold, stolid way, gave her +what love there was in him. This, however, not satisfying her, she +played two ends against the middle, and, finding a young man of wealth +and position who could give her, in his youth, the exuberance and +joy utterly apart from the character of the theatrical manager, she +adopted him, and for a while lived with him. Exhausting his money, she +cast him aside, always spending a certain part of the time with the +theatrical manager. The young man became crazed, and, at a restaurant, +tried to murder all of them. + +From that time up to the opening of the play, her career was a +succession of brilliant coups in gaining the confidence and love, +not to say the money, of men of all ages and all walks in life. Her +fascination was as undeniable as her insincerity of purpose. She +had never made an honest effort to be an honest woman, although she +imagined herself always persecuted, the victim of circumstances,--and +was always ready to excuse any viciousness of character which led her +into her peculiar difficulties. While acknowledged to be a mistress of +her business--that of acting--from a purely technical point of view, +her lack of sympathy, her abuse of her dramatic temperament in her +private affairs, had been such as to make it impossible for her +sincerely to impress audiences with real emotional power, and, +therefore, despite the influences which she always had at hand, she +remained a mediocre artist. + +At the time of the opening of our play, she has played a summer +engagement with a stock company in Denver, which has just ended. She +has met JOHN MADISON, a man of about twenty-seven years of age, whose +position is that of a dramatic critic on one of the local papers. +LAURA MURDOCH, with her usual wisdom, started to fascinate JOHN +MADISON, but has found that, for once in her life, she has met her +match. + +JOHN MADISON is good to look at, frank, virile, but a man of broad +experience, and not to be hoodwinked. For the first time LAURA MURDOCH +feels that the shoe is pinching the other foot, and, without any +possible indication of reciprocal affection, she has been slowly +falling desperately, madly, honestly and decently in love with him. +She has for the past two years been the special favourite and mistress +of WILLARD BROCKTON. The understanding is one of pure friendship. +He is a man who has a varied taste in the selection of his women; is +honest in a general way, and perfectly frank about his amours. He has +been most generous with LAURA MURDOCK, and his close relations with +several very prominent theatrical managers have made it possible for +him to secure her desirable engagements, generally in New York. With +all her past experiences, tragic and otherwise, LAURA MURDOCH has +found nothing equal to this sudden, this swiftly increasing, love for +the young Western man. At first she attempted to deceive him. Her baby +face, her masterful assumption of innocence and childlike devotion, +made no impression upon him. He has let her know in no uncertain way +that he knew her record from the day she stepped on American soil in +San Francisco to the time when she had come to Denver, but still he +liked her. + +JOHN MADISON is a peculiar type of the Western man. Up to the time of +his meeting LAURA, he had always been employed either in the mines +or on a newspaper west of the Mississippi River. He is one of those +itinerant reporters; to-day you might find him in Seattle, to-morrow +in Butte, the next week in Denver, and then possibly he would make +the circuit from Los Angeles to 'Frisco, and then all around again. +He drinks his whiskey straight, plays his faro fairly, and is not +particular about the women with whom he goes. He started life in +the Western country at an early age. His natural talents, both in +literature and in general adaptability to all conditions of life, +were early exhibited, but his _alma mater_ was the bar-room, and +the faculty of that college its bartenders and gamblers and general +habitués. + +He seldom has social engagements outside of certain disreputable +establishments, where a genial personality or an over-burdened +pocketbook gives _entrée_, and the rules of conventionality have +never even been whispered. His love affairs, confined to this class +of women, have seldom lasted more than a week or ten days. His editors +know him as a brilliant genius, irresponsible, unreliable, but at +times inestimably valuable. He cares little for personal appearance +beyond a certain degree of neatness. He is quick on the trigger, and +in a time of over-heated argument can go some distance with his fists; +in fact, his whole career is best described as "happy-go-lucky." + +He realizes fully his ability to do almost anything fairly well, and +some things especially well, but he has never tried to accomplish +anything beyond the earning of a comfortable living. Twenty-five or +thirty dollars a week was all he needed. With that he could buy his +liquor, treat his women, sometimes play a little faro, sit up all +night and sleep all day, and in general lead the life of good-natured +vagabondage which has always pleased him and which he had chosen as a +career. + +The objection of safer and saner friends to this form of livelihood +was always met by him with a slap on the back and a laugh. "Don't you +worry about me, partner; if I'm going to hell I'm going there with +bells on," was always his rejoinder; and yet, when called upon to +cover some great big news story, or report some vital event, he +settled down to his work with a steely determination and a grim joy +that resulted in work which classified him as a genius. Any great +mental effort of this character, any unusual achievement along these +lines, would be immediately followed by a protracted debauch that +would upset him physically and mentally for weeks at a time, but he +always recovered and landed on his feet, and with the same laugh and +smile again went at his work. + +If there have been opportunities to meet decent women of good social +standing, he has always thrown them aside with the declaration that +they bore him to death, and there never had entered into his heart a +feeling or idea of real affection until he met LAURA. He fell for a +moment under the spell of her fascination, and then, with cold logic, +he analyzed her, and found out that, while outwardly she had +every sign of girlhood,--ingenuousness, sweetness of character and +possibility of affection,--spiritually and mentally she was nothing +more than a moral wreck. He observed keenly her efforts to win him and +her disappointment at her failure--not that she cared so much for him +personally, but that it hurt her vanity not to be successful with +this good-for-nothing, good-natured vagabond, when men of wealth and +position she made kneel at her feet. He observed her slowly-changing +point of view: how from a kittenish ingenuousness she became serious, +womanly, really sincere. He knew that he had awakened in her her first +decent affection, and he knew that she was awakening in him his first +desire to do things and be big and worth while. So together these +two began to drift toward a path of decent dealing, decent ambition, +decent thought, and decent love, until at last they both find +themselves, and acknowledge all the wickedness of what had been, and +plan for all the virtue and goodness of what is to be. It is at this +point that our first act begins. + +ELFIE ST. CLAIR is a type of a Tenderloin grafter in New York, who, +after all, has been more sinned against than sinning; who, having been +imposed upon, deceived, ill-treated and bulldozed by the type of men +who prey on women in New York, has turned the tables, and with her +charm and her beauty has gone out to make the same slaughter of the +other sex as she suffered with many of her sisters. + +She is a woman without a moral conscience, whose entire life is +dictated by a small mental operation. Coming to New York as a +beautiful girl, she entered the chorus. She became famous for her +beauty. On every hand were the stage-door vultures ready to give her +anything that a woman's heart could desire, from clothes to horses, +carriages, money and what-not; but, with a girl-like instinct, she +fell in love with a man connected with the company, and, during +all the time she might have profited and become a rich woman by the +attentions of these outsiders, she remained true to her love, until +finally her fame as the beauty of the city had waned. The years told +on her to a certain extent, and there were others coming, as young as +she had been and as good to look at; and, where the automobile of the +millionaire had once been waiting for her, she found that, through her +faithfulness to her lover, it was now there for some one else. Yet she +was content with her joys, until finally the man deliberately jilted +her and left her alone. + +What had gone of her beauty had been replaced by a keen knowledge of +human nature and of men, so she determined to give herself up entirely +to a life of gain. She knows just how much champagne should be +drunk without injuring one's health. She knows just what physical +necessities should be indulged in to preserve to the greatest degree +her remaining beauty. There is no trick of the hair-dresser, the +modiste, the manicurist, or any one of the legion of people who devote +their time to aiding the outward fascinations of women, which she does +not know. She knows exactly what perfumes to use, what stockings +to wear, how she should live, how far she should indulge in any +dissipation; and all this she has determined to devote to profit. She +knows that as an actress she has no future; that the time of a woman's +beauty is limited. Conscious that she has already lost the youthful +litheness of figure which had made her so fascinating in the past, +she has laid aside every sentiment, physical and spiritual, and +has determined to choose a man as her companion who has the biggest +bank-roll and the most liberal nature. His age, his station in life, +the fact whether she likes or dislikes him, do not enter into this +scheme at all. She figures that she has been made a fool of by men, +and that there is only one revenge,--the accumulation of a fortune to +make her independent of them once and for all. There are, of course, +certain likes and dislikes that she enjoys, and in a way she indulges +them. There are men whose company she cares for, but their association +is practically sexless and has come down to a point of mere good +fellowship. + +WILLARD BROCKTON, a New York broker, is an honest sensualist, and when +one says an honest sensualist, the meaning is--a man who has none +of the cad in his character, who takes advantage of no one, and who +allows no one to take advantage of him. He honestly detests any man +who takes advantage of a pure woman. He detests any man who deceives a +woman. He believes that there is only one way to go through life, +and that is to be frank with those with whom one deals. He is a +master-hand in stock manipulation, and in the questionable practises +of Wall Street he has realized that he has to play his cunning and +craft against the cunning and craft of others. He is not at all in +sympathy with this mode of living, but he thinks it is the only +method by which he can succeed in life. He measures success by the +accumulation of money, but he considers his business career as a thing +apart from his private existence. + +He does not associate, to any great extent, with what is known as +"society." He keeps in touch with it simply to maintain his business +position. There is always an inter-relationship among the rich in +business and private life, and he gives such entertainments as are +necessary to the members of New York's exclusive set, simply to make +certain his relative position with other successful Wall Street men. + +As far as women are concerned, the particular type of actress, such as +LAURA MURDOCH and ELFIE ST. CLAIR, appeals to him. He likes their good +fellowship. He loves to be with a gay party at night in a café. He +likes the rather looseness of living which does not quite reach the +disreputable. Behind all this, however, is a certain high sense of +honour. He detests and despises the average stage-door Johnny, and +he loathes the type of man who seeks to take young girls out of +theatrical companies for their ruin. + +His women friends are as wise as himself. When they enter into an +agreement with him there is no deception. In the first place he wants +to like them; in the second place he wants them to like him; and +finally, he wants to fix the amount of their living expenses at +a definite figure, and have them stand by it. He wants them to +understand that he reserves the right, at any time, to withdraw his +support, or transfer it to some other woman, and he gives them the +same privilege. + +He is always ready to help anyone who is unfortunate, and he has +always hoped that some of these girls whom he knew would finally come +across the right man, marry and settle down; but he insists that such +an arrangement can be possible only by the honest admission on the +woman's part of what she has done and been, and by the thorough +understanding of all these things by the man involved. He is gruff in +his manner, determined in his purposes, honest in his point of view. +He is a brute, almost a savage, but he is a thoroughly good brute and +a pretty decent savage. + +At the time of the opening of this play, he and LAURA MURDOCK have +been friends for two years. He knows exactly what she is and what she +has been, and their relations are those of pals. She has finished her +season in Denver, and he has come out there to accompany her home. +He has always told her, whenever she felt it inconsistent with her +happiness to continue her relations with him, it is her privilege to +quit, and he has reserved the same condition. + +JIM WESTON, between forty-five and fifty years of age, is the type +of the semi-broken-down showman. In the evolution of the theatrical +business in America, the old circus and minstrel men have gradually +been pushed aside, while younger men, with more advanced methods, have +taken their place. The character is best realized by the way it is +drawn in the play. + +ANNIE. The only particular attention that should be called to the +character of the negress, ANNIE, who is the servant of LAURA, is the +fact that she must not in any way represent the traditional smiling +coloured girl or "mammy" of the South. She is the cunning, crafty, +heartless, surly, sullen Northern negress, who, to the number of +thousands, are servants of women of easy morals, and who infest a +district of New York in which white and black people of the lower +classes mingle indiscriminately, and which is one of the most criminal +sections of the city. The actress who plays this part must keep in +mind its innate and brutal selfishness. + + + + +SYNOPSIS. + + +ACT I. Mrs. Williams' Ranch House or Country Home, perched on the side +of Ute Pass, near Colorado Springs, Colorado. + +TIME. Late in an August afternoon. + + +ACT II. Laura Murdock's furnished Room, second story back, New York. + +TIME. Six months later. + + +ACT III. Laura Murdock's Apartments in an expensive Hotel. + +TIME. Two months later. In the morning. + + +ACT IV. Laura Murdock's Apartments. The same as Act III. + +TIME. The afternoon of the same day. + + + + +THE EASIEST WAY + +ACT I. + + +SCENE. _The scene is that of the summer country ranch house of_ MRS. +WILLIAMS, _a friend of_ LAURA MURDOCK'S, _and a prominent society +woman of Denver, perched on the side of Ute Pass, near Colorado +Springs. The house is one of unusual pretentiousness, and, to a person +not conversant with conditions as they exist in this part of Colorado, +the idea might be that such magnificence could not obtain in such +a locality. At the left of stage the house rises in the form of a +turret, built of rough stone of a brown hue, two stories high, and +projecting a quarter of the way out on the stage. The door leads to a +small elliptical terrace built of stone, with heavy benches of Greek +design, strewn cushions, while over the top of one part of this +terrace is suspended a canopy made from a Navajo blanket. The terrace +is supposed to extend almost to the right of stage, and here it stops. +The stage must be cut here so that the entrance of_ JOHN _can give the +illusion that he is coming up a steep declivity or a long flight of +stairs. There are chairs at right and left, and a small table at left. +There are trailing vines around the balustrade of the terrace, and +the whole setting must convey the idea of quiet wealth. Up stage is +supposed to be the part of the terrace overlooking the cañon, a sheer +drop of two thousand feet, while over in the distance, as if across +the cañon, one can see the rolling foot-hills and lofty peaks of the +Rockies, with Pike's Peak in the distance, snow-capped and colossal. +It is late in the afternoon, and, as the scene progresses, the quick +twilight of a cañon, beautiful in its tints of purple and amber, +becomes later pitch black, and the curtain goes down on an absolutely +black stage. The cyclorama, or semi-cyclorama, must give the +perspective of greater distances, and be so painted that the various +tints of twilight may be shown_. + +AT RISE. LAURA MURDOCK _is seen leaning a bit over the balustrade of +the porch and shielding her eyes with her hand from the late afternoon +sun, as she seemingly looks up the Pass to the left, as if expecting +the approach of someone. Her gown is simple, girlish and attractive, +and made of summery, filmy stuff. Her hair is done up in the simplest +fashion, with a part in the centre, and there is about her every +indication of an effort to assume that girlishness of demeanour which +has been her greatest asset through life_. WILLARD BROCKTON _enters; +he is a man six feet or more in height, stocky in build, clean-shaven +and immaculately dressed. He is smoking a cigar, and upon +entering takes one step forward and looks over toward_ LAURA _in a +semi-meditative manner_. + +WILL. Blue? + +LAURA. No. + +WILL. What's up? + +LAURA. Nothing. + +WILL. A little preoccupied. + +LAURA. Perhaps. + +WILL. What's up that way? + +LAURA. Which way? + +WILL. The way you are looking. + +LAURA. The road from Manitou Springs. They call it the trail out here. + +WILL. I know that. You know I've done a lot of business west of the +Missouri. + +LAURA. [_With a half-sigh_.] No, I didn't know it. + +WILL. Oh, yes; south of here in the San Juan country. Spent a couple +of years there once. + +LAURA. [_Still without turning_.] That's interesting. + +WILL. It was then. I made some money there. It's always interesting +when you make money. Still-- + +LAURA. [_Still leaning in an absent-minded attitude_.] Still what? + +WILL. Can't make out why you have your eyes glued on that road. +Someone coming? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. One of Mrs. Williams' friends, eh? [_Will crosses, and sits on +seat_. + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. Yours too? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. Man? + +LAURA. Yes, a _real_ man. + +WILL. [_Catches the significance of this speech. He carelessly throws +the cigar over the balustrade. He comes down and leans on chair with +his back to_ LAURA. _She has not moved more than to place her left +hand on a cushion and lean her head rather wearily against it, looking +steadfastly up the Pass_.] A real man. By that you mean-- + +LAURA. Just that--a real man. + +WILL. Any difference from the many you have known? + +LAURA. Yes, from all I have known. + +WILL. So that is why you didn't come into Denver to meet me to-day, +but left word for me to come out here? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. I thought that I was pretty decent to take a dusty ride half-way +across the continent in order to keep you company on your way back to +New York, and welcome you to our home; but maybe I had the wrong idea. + +LAURA. Yes, I think you had the wrong idea. + +WILL. In love, eh? + +LAURA. Yes, just that,--in love. + +WILL. A new sensation. + +LAURA. No; the first conviction. + +WILL. You have had that idea before. Every woman's love is the real +one when it comes. [_Crosses up to_ LAURA.] Do you make a distinction +in this case, young lady? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. For instance, what? + +LAURA. This man is poor--absolutely broke. He hasn't even got a +[_Crosses to armchair, leans over and draws with parasol on ground_.] +good job. You know, Will, all the rest, including yourself, generally +had some material inducement. + +WILL. What's his business? [_Crosses to table and sits looking at +magazine_. + +LAURA. He's a newspaper man. + +WILL. H'm-m. Romance? + +LAURA. Yes, if you want to call it that,--romance. + +WILL. Do I know him? + +LAURA. How could you? You only came from New York to-day, and he has +never been there. + +_He regards her with a rather amused, indulgent, almost paternal +expression, in contrast to his big, bluff, physical personality, with +his iron-gray hair and his bulldog expression_. LAURA _looks +more girlish than ever. This is imperative in order to thoroughly +understand the character_. + +WILL. How old is he? + +LAURA. Twenty-seven. You're forty-five. + +WILL. No, forty-six. + +LAURA. Shall I tell you about him? Huh? + +[_Crosses to_ WILL, _placing parasol on seat_. + +WILL. That depends. + +LAURA. On what? + +WILL. Yourself. + +LAURA. In what way? + +WILL. If it will interfere in the least with the plans I have made for +you and for me. + +LAURA. And have you made any particular plans for me that have +anything particularly to do with you? + +WILL. Yes, I have given up the lease of our apartment on West End +Avenue, and I've got a house on Riverside Drive. Everything will be +quiet and decent, and it'll be more comfortable for you. There's a +stable near by, and your horses and car can be kept over there. You'll +be your own mistress, and besides I've fixed you up for a new part. + +LAURA. A new part! What kind of a part? + +WILL. One of Charlie Burgess's shows, translated from some French +fellow. It's been running over in Paris, Berlin, and Vienna, and all +those places, for a year or more, and appears to be an awful hit. It's +going to cost a lot of money. I told Charlie he could put me down +for a half interest, and I'd give all the money providing you got +an important rôle. Great part, I'm told. Kind of a cross between a +musical comedy and an opera. Looks as if it might stay in New York all +season. So that's the change of plan. How does it strike you? + +[LAURA _crosses to door, meditating; pauses in thought_. + +LAURA. I don't know. + +WILL. Feel like quitting? [_Turns to her._ + +LAURA. I can't tell. + +WILL. It's the newspaper man, eh? + +LAURA. That would be the only reason. + +WILL. You've been on the square with me this summer, haven't you? +[_Crosses to table_. + +LAURA. [_Turns, looks at_ WILL.] What do you mean by "on the square?" + +WILL. Don't evade. There's only one meaning when I say that, and you +know it. I'm pretty liberal. But you understand where I draw the line. +You've not jumped that, have you, Laura? + +LAURA. No, this has been such a wonderful summer, such a wonderfully +different summer. Can you understand what I mean by that when I say +"wonderfully different summer?" + +[_Crossing to WILL_. + +WILL. Well, he's twenty-seven and broke, and you're twenty-five and +pretty; and he evidently, being a newspaper man, has that peculiar +gift of gab that we call romantic expression. So I guess I'm not +blind, and you both think you've fallen in love. That it? + +LAURA. Yes, I think that's about it; only I don't agree to the "gift +of gab" and the "romantic" end of it. [_Crosses to table_.] He's a man +and I'm a woman, and we both have had our experiences. I don't think, +Will, that there can be much of that element of what some folks call +hallucination. + +[_Sits on chair; takes candy-box on lap; selects candy_. + +WILL. Then the Riverside Drive proposition and Burgess's show is off, +eh? + +LAURA. I didn't say that. + +WILL. And if you go back on the Overland Limited day after to-morrow, +you'd just as soon I'd go to-morrow of wait until the day after you +leave? [LAURA _places candy-box back on table_. + +LAURA. I didn't say that, either. + +WILL. What's the game? + +LAURA. I can't tell you now. + +WILL. Waiting for him to come? [_Crosses, sits on seat_. + +LAURA. Exactly. + +WILL. Think he is going to make a proposition, eh? + +LAURA. I know he is. + +WILL. Marriage? + +LAURA. Possibly. + +WILL. You've tried that once, and taken the wrong end. Are you going +to play the same game again? + +LAURA. Yes, but with a different card. + +[_Picks up magazine off table_. + +WILL. What's his name? + +LAURA. Madison--John Madison. + +[_Slowly turning pages of magazine_. + +WILL. And his job? + +LAURA. Reporter. + +WILL. What are you going to live on,--the extra editions? + +LAURA. No, we're young, there's plenty of time. I can work in the +meantime, and so can he; and then with his ability and my ability +it will only be a matter of a year or two when things will shape +themselves to make it possible. + +WILL. Sounds well--a year off. + +LAURA. If I thought you were going to make fun of me, Will, I +shouldn't have talked to you. + +[_Throws down magazine, crosses to door of house_. + +WILL. [_Crossing down in front of table_.] I don't want to make fun of +you, but you must realize that after two years it isn't an easy thing +to be dumped with so little ceremony. Maybe you have never given +me any credit for possessing the slightest feeling, but even I can +receive shocks from other sources than a break in the market. + +LAURA. [_Crosses to_ WILL.] It isn't easy for me to do this. You've +been awfully kind, awfully considerate, but when I went to you it was +just with the understanding that we were to be pals. You reserved the +right then to quit me whenever you felt like it, and you gave me the +same privilege. Now, if some girl came along who really captivated +you in the right way, and you wanted to marry, it would hurt me a +little,--maybe a lot,--but I should never forget that agreement +we made, a sort of two weeks' notice clause, like people have in +contracts. + +WILL. [_Is evidently very much moved. Walks up stage to right end of +seat, looks over the cañon_. LAURA _looks after him_. WILL _has his +back to the audience. Long pause_.] I'm not hedging, Laura. If that's +the way you want it to be, I'll stand by just exactly what I said +[_Turns to_ LAURA.], but I'm fond of you, a damn sight fonder than I +thought I was, now that I find you slipping away; but if this young +fellow is on the square [LAURA _crosses to_ WILL, _taking his right +hand_.] and he has youth and ability, and you've been on the square +with him, why, all right. Your life hasn't had much in it to help you +get a diploma from any celestial college, and if you can start out +now and be a good girl, have a good husband, and maybe some day good +children [LAURA _sighs_.], why, I'm not going to stand in the way. +Only I don't want you to make any of those mistakes that you made +before. + +LAURA. I know, but somehow I feel that this time the real thing has +come, and with it the real man. I can't tell you, Will, how much +different it is, but everything I felt before seems so sort of +earthly--and somehow this love that I have for this man is so +different. It's made me want to be truthful and sincere and humble +for the first time in my life. The only other thing I ever had that I +cared the least bit about, now that I look back, was your friendship. +We have been good pals, haven't we? + +[_Puts arms about_ WILL. + +WILL. Yes, it's been a mighty good two years for me. I was always +proud to take you around, because I think you one of the prettiest +things in New York [LAURA _crosses and girlishly jumps into +armchair._], and that helps some, and you're always jolly, and you +never complained. You always spent a lot of money, but it was a +pleasure to see you spend it; and then you never offended me. Most +women offend men by coming around looking untidy and sort of unkempt, +but somehow you always knew the value of your beauty, and you always +dressed up. I always thought that maybe some day the fellow would come +along, grab you, and make you happy in a nice way, but I thought +that he'd have to have a lot of money. You know you've lived a rather +extravagant life for five years, Laura. It won't be an easy job to +come down to cases and suffer for the little dainty necessities you've +been used to. + +LAURA. I've thought all about that, and I think I understand. + +[_Facing audience; leaning elbows on lap._ + +WILL. You know if you were working without anybody's help, Laura, you +might have a hard time getting a position. As an actress you're only +fair. + +LAURA. You needn't remind me of that. That part of my life is my own. +[_Crosses up to seat._] I don't want you to start now and make it +harder for me to do the right thing. It isn't fair; it isn't square; +and it isn't right. You've got to let me go my own way. [_Crosses to_ +WILL; _puts right hand on his shoulder._] I'm sorry to leave you, in +a way, but I want you to know that if I go with John it changes the +spelling of the word comradeship into love, and mistress into wife. +Now please don't talk any more. [_Crosses to post; takes scarf off +chair._ + +WILL. Just a word. Is it settled? + +LAURA. [_Impatiently._] I said I didn't know. I would know +to-day--that's what I'm waiting for. Oh, I don't see why he doesn't +come. [WILL _turns up to seat looking over Pass._ + +WILL. [_Pointing up the Pass._] Is that the fellow coming up here? + +LAURA. [_Quickly running toward the balustrade of seat, saying as she +goes_:] Where? [_Kneels on seat_. + +WILL. [_Pointing_.] Up the road there. On that yellow horse. + +LAURA. [_Looking_.] Yes, that's John. [_She waves her handkerchief, +and putting one hand to her mouth cries_:] Hello! + +JOHN. [_Off stage with the effect as if he was on the road winding up +toward the house_.] Hello yourself! + +LAURA. [_Same effect_.] Hurry up, you're late. + +JOHN. [_Same effect, a little louder_.] Better late than never. + +LAURA. [_Same effect_.] Hurry up. + +JOHN. [_Little louder_.] Not with this horse. + +LAURA. [_To_ WILL, _with enthusiastic expression_.] Now, Will, does he +look like a yellow reporter? + +WILL. [_With a sort of sad smile_.] He _is_ a good-looking chap. + +LAURA. [_Looking down again at_ JOHN.] Oh, he's just simply more than +that. [_Turns quickly to_ WILL.] Where's Mrs. Williams? + +WILL. [_Motioning with thumb toward left side of ranch house_.] +Inside, I guess, up to her neck in bridge. + +LAURA. [_Goes hurriedly over to door_.] Mrs. Williams! Oh, Mrs. +Williams! + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Heard off stage_.] What is it, my dear? + +LAURA. Mr. Madison is coming up the path. + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Off stage_.] That's good. + +LAURA. Sha'n't you come and see him? + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Same_.] Lord, no! I'm six dollars and twenty cents +out now, and up against an awful streak of luck. + +LAURA. Shall I give him some tea? + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Same_.] Yes, do, dear; and tell him to cross his +fingers when he thinks of me. + +_In the meantime_ WILL _has leaned over the balustrade, evidently +surveying the young man, who is supposed to be coming up the, path, +with a great deal of interest. Underneath his stolid, businesslike +demeanour of squareness, there is undoubtedly within his heart a very +great affection for_ LAURA. _He realizes that during her whole career +he has been the only one who has influenced her absolutely. Since the +time they lived together, he has always dominated, and he has always +endeavoured to lead her along a path that meant the better things of a +Bohemian existence. His coming all the way from New York to Denver to +accompany_ LAURA _home was simply another example of his keen interest +in the woman, and he suddenly finds that she has drifted away from him +in a manner to which he could not in the least object, and that she +had been absolutely fair and square in her agreement with him._ WILL +_is a man who, while rough and rugged in many ways, possesses many of +the finer instincts of refinement, latent though they may be, and +his meeting with_ JOHN _ought, therefore, to show much significance, +because on his impressions of the young man depend the entire +justification of his attitude in the play._ + +LAURA. [_Turning toward_ WILL _and going to him, slipping her hand +involuntarily through his arm, and looking eagerly with him over the +balustrade in almost girlish enthusiasm._] Do you like him? + +WILL. [_Smiling_.] I don't know him. + +LAURA. Well, do you think you'll like him? + +WILL. Well, I hope I'll like him. + +LAURA. Well, if you hope you'll like him you ought to think you like +him. He'll turn the corner of that rock in just a minute and then you +can see him. Do you want to see him? + +WILL. [_Almost amused at her girlish manner._] Why, yes--do you? + +LAURA. Do I? Why, I haven't seen him since last night! There he is. +[_Waves her hand._] Hello, John! + +[_Gets candy-box, throws pieces of candy at_ JOHN. + +JOHN. [_His voice very close now_.] Hello, girlie! How's everything? + +LAURA. Fine! Do hurry. + +JOHN. Just make this horse for a minute. Hurry is not in his +dictionary. + +LAURA. I'm coming down to meet you. + +JOHN. All--right. + +LAURA. [_Turns quickly to_ WILL.] You don't care. You'll wait, won't +you? + +WILL. Surely. + +LAURA _hurriedly exits._ WILL _goes down centre of the stage. After +a short interval_ LAURA _comes in, more like a sixteen-year-old girl +than anything else, pulling_ JOHN _after her. He is a tall, finely +built type of Western manhood, a frank face, a quick, nervous energy, +a mind that works like lightning, a prepossessing smile, and a +personality that is wholly captivating. His clothes are a bit dusty +from the ride, but are not in the least pretentious, and his leggins +are of canvas and spurs of brass, such as are used in the Army. His +hat is off, and he is pulled on to the stage, more like a great +big boy than a man. His hair is a bit tumbled, and he shows every +indication of having had a rather long and hard ride_. + +LAURA. Hello, John! + +JOHN. Hello, girlie! + +_Then she suddenly recovers herself and realizes the position she +is in. Both men measure each other for a moment in silence, neither +flinching the least bit. The smile has faded from_ JOHN'S _face, and +the mouth droops into an expression of firm determination._ LAURA _for +a moment loses her ingenuousness. She is the least bit frightened at +finally placing the two men face to face, and in a voice that trembles +slightly from apprehension_: + +LAURA. Oh, I beg your pardon! Mr. Madison, this is Mr. Brockton, a +friend of mine from New York. You've often heard me speak of him; he +came out here to keep me company when I go home. + +JOHN. [_Comes forward, extends a hand, looking_ WILL _right in the +eye._] I am very glad to know you, Mr. Brockton. + +WILL. Thank you. + +JOHN. I've heard a great deal about you and your kindness to +Miss Murdock. Anything that you have done for her in a spirit of +friendliness I am sure all her friends must deeply appreciate, and I +count myself in as one. + +WILL. [_In an easy manner that rather disarms the antagonistic +attitude of_ JOHN.] Then we have a good deal in common, Mr. Madison, +for I also count Miss Murdock a friend, and when two friends of a +friend have the pleasure of meeting, I dare say that's a pretty good +foundation for them to become friends too. + +JOHN. Possibly. Whatever my opinion may have been of you, Mr. +Brockton, before you arrived, now I have seen you--and I'm a man who +forms his conclusions right off the bat--I don't mind telling you that +you've agreeably surprised me. That's just a first impression, but +they run kind o' strong with me. + +WILL. Well, young man, I size up a fellow in pretty short order, and +all things being equal, I think you'll do. + +LAURA. [_Radiantly._] Shall I get the tea? + +JOHN. Tea! + +LAURA. Yes, tea. You know it must be tea--nothing stronger. + +[_Crosses to door._ + +JOHN. [_Looking at_ WILL _rather comically._] How strong are you for +that tea, Mr. Brockton? + +WILL. I'll pass; it's your deal, Mr. Madison. + +JOHN. Mine! No, deal me out this hand. + +LAURA. I don't think you're at all pleasant, but I'll tell you one +thing--it's tea this deal or no game. + +[_Crosses up stage to seat, picks up magazine, turns pages._ + +WILL. No game then [_Crosses to door._], and I'm going to help Mrs. +Williams; maybe she's lost nearly seven dollars by this time, and I'm +an awful dub when it comes to bridge. [_Exit._ + +LAURA. [_Tossing magazine on to seat, crosses quickly to_ JOHN, +_throws her arms around his neck in the most loving manner._] John! + +_As the Act progresses the shadows cross the Pass, and golden light +streams across the lower hills and tops the snow-clad peaks. It +becomes darker and darker, the lights fade to beautiful opalescent +hues, until, when the curtain falls on the act, with_ JOHN _and_ WILL +_on the scene, it is pitch dark, a faint glow coming out of the door. +Nothing else can be seen but the glow of the ash on the end of +each man's cigar as he puffs it in silent meditation on their +conversation._ + +JOHN. Well, dear? + +LAURA. Are you going to be cross with me? + +JOHN. Why? + +LAURA. Because he came? + +JOHN. Brockton? + +LAURA. Yes. + +JOHN. You didn't know, did you? + +LAURA. Yes, I did. + +JOHN. That he was coming? + +LAURA. He wired me when he reached Kansas City. + +JOHN. Does he know? + +LAURA. About us? + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. I've told him. + +JOHN. When? + +LAURA. To-day. + +JOHN. Here? + +LAURA. Yes. + +JOHN. With what result? + +LAURA. I think it hurt him. + +JOHN. Naturally. + +LAURA. More than I had any idea it would. + +JOHN. I'm sorry. [_Sits in armchair_. + +LAURA. He cautioned me to be very careful and to be sure I knew my +way. + +JOHN. That was right. + +LAURA _gets a cushion in each hand off seat; crosses down to left of +armchair, throws one cushion on ground, then the other on top of +it, and kneels beside his chair. Piano in house playing a Chopin +Nocturne_. + +LAURA. John. + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. We've been very happy all summer. + +JOHN. Very. + +LAURA. [_Rises, sits on left arm of chair, her arm over back_.] And +this thing has gradually been growing on us? + +JOHN. That's true. + +LAURA. I didn't think that, when I came out here to Denver to play in +a little stock company, it was going to bring me all this happiness, +but it has, hasn't it? + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. [_Changing her position, sits on his lap, arms around his +neck_.] And now the season's over and there is nothing to keep me in +Colorado, and I've got to go back to New York to work. + +JOHN. I know; I've been awake all night thinking about it. + +LAURA. Well? + +JOHN. Well? + +LAURA. What are we going to do? + +JOHN. Why, you've got to go, I suppose. + +LAURA. Is it good-bye? + +JOHN. For a while, I suppose--it's good-bye. + +LAURA. What do you mean by a while? + +[LAURA _turns_ JOHN'S _face to her, looks at him searchingly_. + +JOHN. Until [_Piano plays crescendo, then softens down_.] I get money +enough together, and am making enough to support you, then come and +take you out of the show business and make you Mrs. Madison. + +LAURA _tightens her arm around his neck, her cheek goes close to his +own, and all the wealth of affection the woman is capable of at times +is shown. She seems more like a dainty little kitten purring close to +its master. Her whole thought and idea seem to be centred on the man +whom she professes to love._ + +LAURA. John, that is what I want above everything else. + +JOHN. But, Laura, we must come to some distinct understanding before +we start to make our plans. We're not children. + +LAURA. No, we're not. + +JOHN. Now in the first place [LAURA _rises, crosses to centre._] we'll +discuss you, and in the second place we'll discuss me. We'll keep +nothing from each other [LAURA _picks up cushions, places them on +seat._], and we'll start out on this campaign [LAURA _turns back to +centre, facing audience._] of decency and honour, fully understanding +its responsibilities, without a chance of a come-back on either side. + +LAURA. [_Becoming very serious._] You mean that we should tell each +other all about each other, so, no matter what's ever said about us by +other people, we'll know it first? + +JOHN. [_Rising._] That's precisely what I'm trying to get at. + +LAURA. Well, John, there are so many things I don't want to speak of +even to you. It isn't easy for a woman to go back and dig up a lot +of ugly memories and try to excuse them. [_Crosses to front of table, +picks up magazine, places it on table_. + +JOHN. I've known everything from the first; how you came to San +Francisco as a kid and got into the show business, and how you went +wrong, and then how you married, still a kid, and how your husband +didn't treat you exactly right, and then how, in a fit of drunkenness, +he came home and shot himself. [LAURA _buries her head in her hands, +making exclamations of horror._ JOHN _crosses to her as if sorry for +hurting her; touches her on shoulder._] But that's all past now, and +we can forget that. And I know how you were up against it after that, +how tough it was for you to get along. Then finally how you've lived, +and--and that you and this man Brockton have been--well--never mind. +I've known it all for months, and I've watched you. Now, Laura, the +habit of life is a hard thing to get away from. You've lived in this +way for a long time. If I ask you to be my wife you'll have to give it +up; you'll have to go back to New York and struggle on your own hook +until I get enough to come for you. I don't know how long that will +be, but it _will_ be. Do you love me enough to stick out for the right +thing? + +LAURA _crosses to him, puts her arms around him, kisses him once very +affectionately, looks at him very earnestly_. + +LAURA. Yes. I think this is my one great chance. I do love you and I +want to do just what you said. + +JOHN. I think you will. I'm going to make the same promise. Your life, +dear girl, has been an angel's compared with mine. I've drank whiskey, +played bank, and raised hell ever since the time I could develop +a thirst; and ever since I've been able to earn my own living I've +abused every natural gift God gave me. The women I've associated with +aren't good enough to touch the hem of your skirt, but they liked +me, and [JOHN _crosses to armchair, turns up stage, then faces her_.] +well--I must have liked them. My life hasn't been exactly loose, it's +been all in pieces. I've never done anything dishonest. I've always +gone wrong just for the fun of it, until I met you. [_Crosses to +her, takes her in his arms_.] Somehow then I began to feel that I was +making an awful waste of myself. + +LAURA. John! + +JOHN. Some lovers place a woman on a pedestal and say, "She never has +made a mistake." [_Taking her by each arm he playfully shakes her_.] +Well, we don't need any pedestals. I just know you never will make a +mistake. + +LAURA. [_Kissing him_.] John, I'll never make you take those words +back. [_Arms around his neck_. + +JOHN. That goes double. You're going to cut out the cabs and cafés, +and I'm going to cut out the whiskey and all-night sessions [LAURA +_releases him; he backs slightly away_.]; and you're going to be +somebody and I'm going to be somebody, and if my hunch is worth the +powder to blow it up, we're going to show folks things they never +thought were in us. Come on now, kiss me. + +_She kisses him; tears are in her eyes. He looks into her face with a +quaint smile_. + +JOHN. You're on, ain't you, dear? + +LAURA. Yes, I'm on. + +JOHN. Then [_Points toward door with his left arm over her shoulder_.] +call him. + +LAURA. Brockton? + +JOHN. Yes, and tell him you go back to New York without any travelling +companion this season. + +LAURA. Now? + +JOHN. Sure. + +LAURA. You want to hear me tell him? + +JOHN. [_With a smile_.] We're partners, aren't we? I ought to be in on +any important transaction like that, but it's just as you say. + +LAURA. I think it would be right you should. I'll call him now. + +JOHN. All right. [_Crossing to stairway_. LAURA _crosses to door; +twilight is becoming very much more pronounced_. + +LAURA. [_At door_.] Mr. Brockton! Oh, Mr. Brockton! + +WILL. [_Off stage_.] Yes. + +LAURA. Can you spare a moment to come out here? + +WILL. Just a moment. + +LAURA. You must come now. + +WILL. All right. [_She waits for him and after a reasonable interval +he appears at door_.] Laura, it's a shame to lure me away from that +mad speculation in there. I thought I might make my fare back to New +York if I played until next summer. What's up? + +LAURA. Mr. Madison wants to talk to you, or rather I do, and I want +him to listen. + +WILL. [_His manner changing to one of cold, stolid calculation_.] Very +well. [_Comes down off step of house_. + +LAURA. Will. + +WILL. Yes? + +LAURA. I'm going home day after to-morrow on the Overland Limited. + +WILL. I know. + +LAURA. It's awfully kind of you to come out here, but under the +circumstances I'd rather you'd take an earlier or a later train. + +WILL. And may I ask what circumstances you refer to? + +LAURA. Mr. Madison and I are going to be married. [_Pause_.] He [Will +_looks inquiringly at_ JOHN.] knows of your former friendship for me, +and he has the idea that it must end. + +WILL. Then the Riverside Drive proposition, with Burgess's show thrown +in, is declared off, eh? + +LAURA. Yes; everything is absolutely declared off. + +WILL. Can't even be friends any more, eh? + +JOHN _crosses, and, taking_ LAURA'S _arm, passes her over to seat; his +back is partly to audience_. + +JOHN. You could hardly expect Miss Murdock to be friendly with you +under the circumstances. You could hardly expect me to [LAURA _puts +scarf across her shoulders_.] sanction any such friendship. + +WILL. I think I understand your position, young man, and I perfectly +agree with you, that is--if your plans come out successfully. + +JOHN. Thank you. + +LAURA. Then everything is settled [_Crossing in front of_ JOHN +_and facing_ WILL, _back to audience_.] just the way it ought to +be--frankly and aboveboard? + +WILL. Why, I guess so. If I was perfectly confident that this new +arrangement was going to result happily for you both, I think it would +be great, only I'm somewhat doubtful, for when people become serious +and then fail, I know how hard those things hit, having _been_ hit +once myself. + +JOHN. So you think we're making a wrong move and there isn't a chance +of success! + +WILL. No, I don't make any such gloomy prophecy. If you make Laura a +good husband, and she makes you a good wife, and together you win +out, I'll be mighty glad. As far as I am concerned I shall absolutely +forget every thought of Laura's friendship for me. + +LAURA. I thought you'd be just that way. + +[_Crosses to_ WILL, _shakes hands_. + +WILL. [_Rising_.] And now I must be off. [_Takes her by both hands +and shakes them_.] Good-bye, girlie! Madison, good luck. [_Crosses to_ +JOHN. _Shakes_ JOHN'S _hands; looks into his eyes_.] I think you've +got the stuff in you to succeed if your foot don't slip. + +JOHN. What do you mean by my foot slipping, Mr. Brockton? + +WILL. You want me to tell you? + +JOHN. I sure do. + +WILL. [_Turns to Laura_.] Laura, run into the house and see if +Mrs. Williams has won another quarter. [LAURA _sinks fearfully into +chair_.] Madison and I are going to smoke a cigar and have a friendly +chat, and when we get through I think we'll both be better off. + +LAURA. You are sure that everything will be all right? + +WILL. Sure. + +LAURA _looks at_ JOHN _for assurance, and exits; he nods +reassuringly_. + +WILL. Have a cigar? + +[SERVANT _places lamp on table inside house_. + +JOHN. No, I'll smoke my own. + +[_Crosses down right; sits in armchair_. + +WILL. What is your business? [_Crosses up to seat centre; sits_. + +JOHN. What's yours? + +WILL. I'm a broker. + +JOHN. I'm a reporter, so I've got something on you. + +WILL. What kind? + +JOHN. General utility, dramatic critic on Sunday nights. + +WILL. Pay you well? + +JOHN. [_Turns, looking at_ WILL.] That's pretty fresh. What's the +idea? + +WILL. I'm interested. I'm a plain man, Mr. Madison, and I do business +in a plain way. Now, if I ask you a few questions and discuss this +matter with you in a frank way, don't get it in your head that I'm +jealous or sore, but simply I don't want either of you people to make +a move that's going to cost you a lot of pain and trouble. If you want +me to talk sense to you, all right. If you don't we'll drop it now. +What's the answer? + +JOHN. I'll take a chance, but before you start I want to tell you that +the class of people that you belong to I have no use for--they don't +speak my language. You are what they call a manipulator of stocks; +that means that you're living on the weaknesses of other people, and +it almost means that you get your daily bread, yes, and your cake and +your wine, too, from the production of others. You're a "gambler +under cover." Show me a man who's dealing bank, and he's free and +aboveboard. You can figure the percentage against you, and then, if +you buck the tiger and get stung, you do it with your eyes open. With +your financiers the game is crooked twelve months of the year, and, +from a business point of view, I think you are a crook. Now I guess we +understand each other. If you've got anything to say, why, spill it. + +WILL _rises, comes down toward_ JOHN, _showing anger in his tones_. + +WILL. We are not talking business now, but women. How much money do +you earn? + +[_Crosses to chair left of table; gets it_. + +JOHN. Understand I don't think it is any of your damn business, but +I'm going through with you on this proposition, just to see how the +land lays. But take my tip, you be mighty careful how you speak about +the girl if you're not looking for trouble. + +WILL. All right, but how much did you say you made? + +[_Crosses over to centre of stage, carrying chair; sits_. + +JOHN. Thirty dollars a week. + +WILL. Do you know how much Laura could make if she just took a job on +her own merits? + +JOHN. As I don't intend to share in her salary, I never took the +trouble to inquire. + +WILL. She'd get about forty dollars. + +JOHN. That laps me ten. + +WILL. How are you going to support her? Her cabs cost more than your +salary, and she pays her week's salary for an every-day walking-hat. +She's always had a maid; her simplest gown flirts with a +hundred-dollar note; her manicurist and her hair-dresser will eat up +as much as you pay for your board. She never walks when it's stormy, +and every afternoon there's her ride in the park. She dines at the +best places in New York, and one meal costs her more than you make in +a day. Do you imagine for a moment that she's going to sacrifice these +luxuries for any great length of time? + +JOHN. I intend to give them to her. + +WILL. On thirty dollars a week? + +JOHN. I propose to go out and make a lot of money. + +WILL. How? + +JOHN. I haven't decided yet, but you can bet your sweet life that if I +ever try and make up my mind that it's got to be, it's got to be. + +WILL. Never have made it, have you? + +JOHN. I have never tried. + +WILL. Then how do you know you can? + +JOHN. Well, I'm honest and energetic. If you can get great wealth the +way you go along, I don't see why I can't earn a little. + +WILL. There's where you make a mistake. Money-getting doesn't always +come with brilliancy. I know a lot of fellows in New York who can +paint a great picture, write a good play, and, when it comes to +oratory, they've got me lashed to a pole; but they're always in debt. +They never get anything for what they do. In other words, young man, +they are like a sky-rocket without a stick,--plenty of brilliancy, but +no direction, and they blow up and fizzle all over the ground. + +JOHN. That's New York. I'm in Colorado, and I guess you know there is +a difference. + +WILL. I hope you'll make your money, because I tell you frankly +that's the only way you can hold this girl. She's full of heroics now, +self-sacrifice, and all the things that go to make up the third act of +a play, but the minute she comes to darn her stockings, wash out her +own handkerchiefs and dry them on the window, and send out for a pail +of coffee and a sandwich for lunch, take it from me it will go Blah! +[_Rises, crosses to front of table with chair, places it with back to +him, braces his back on it, facing_ JOHN.] You're in Colorado writing +her letters once a day with no checks in them. That may be all right +for some girl who hasn't tasted the joy of easy living, full of the +good things of life, but one who for ten years has been doing very +well in the way these women do is not going to let up for any great +length of time. So take my advice if you want to hold her. Get that +money quick, and don't be so damned particular how you get it either. + +JOHN'S _patience is evidently severely tried. He approaches_ WILL, +_who remains impassive_. + +JOHN. Of course you know you've got the best of me. + +WILL. How? + +JOHN. We're guests. + +WILL. No one's listening. + +JOHN. 'Tisn't that. If it was anywhere but here, if there was any way +to avoid all the nasty scandal, I'd come a shootin' for you, and you +know it. + +WILL. Gun-fighter, eh? + +JOHN. Perhaps. Let me tell you this. I don't know how you make your +money, but I know what you do with it. You buy yourself a small circle +of sycophants; you pay them well for feeding your vanity; and then you +pose,--pose with a certain frank admission of vice and degradation. +And those who aren't quite as brazen as you call it manhood. Manhood? +[_Crossing slowly to armchair, sits._] Why, you don't know what the +word means. It's the attitude of a pup and a cur. + +WILL. [_Angrily_.] Wait a minute [_Crosses to_ JOHN.], young man, or +I'll-- + +JOHN _rises quickly. Both men stand confronting each other for a +moment with fists clenched. They are on the very verge of a personal +encounter. Both seem to realize that they have gone too far_. + +JOHN. You'll what? + +WILL. Lose my temper and make a damn fool of myself. That's something +I've not done for--let me see--why, it must be nearly twenty +years--oh, yes, fully that. + +[_He smiles_; JOHN _relaxes and takes one step back_. + +JOHN. Possibly it's been about that length of time since you were +human, eh? + +WILL. Possibly--but you see, Mr. Madison, after all, you're at fault. + +JOHN. Yes? + +WILL. Yes, the very first thing you did was to lose your temper. Now +people who always lose their temper will never make a lot of money, +and you admit that that is a great necessity--I mean now--to you. + +JOHN. I can't stand for the brutal way you talk. [_Crosses up to seat, +picks up newspaper, slams it down angrily on seat, and sits with elbow +on balustrade_. + +WILL. But you have got to stand it. The truth is never gentle. +[_Crosses up and sits left of_ JOHN.] Most conditions in life are +unpleasant, and, if you want to meet them squarely, you have got to +realize the unpleasant point of view. That's the only way you can +fight them and win. + +JOHN [_Turns to_ WILL.] Still, I believe Laura means what she says, +in spite of all you say and the disagreeable logic of it. I think she +loves me. If she should ever want to go back to the old way of getting +along, I think she'd tell me so. So you see, Brockton, all your talk +is wasted, and we'll drop the subject. + +[_Crosses down and sits in armchair_. + +WILL. And if she should ever go back and come to me, I am going to +insist that she let you know all about it. It'll be hard enough to +lose her, caring for her the way you do, but it would hurt a lot more +to be double-crossed. + +JOHN. [_Sarcastically_.] That's very kind. Thanks! + +WILL. Don't get sore. It's common sense and it goes, does it not? + +JOHN. [_Turns to_ WILL.] Just what goes? + +WILL. If she leaves you first, you are to tell me, and if she comes to +me I'll make her let you know just when and why. + +JOHN _is leaning on arm, facing_ WILL; _his hand shoots out in a +gesture of warning to_ WILL. + +JOHN. Look out! + +WILL. I said common sense. + +JOHN. All right. + +WILL. Agreed? [_A pause_. + +JOHN. You're on. + +_By this time the stage is black and all that can be seen is the glow +of the two cigars. Piano in the next room is heard_. JOHN _crosses +slowly and deliberately to door, looks in, throws cigar away over the +terrace, exits into house, closes doors, and, as_ WILL _is seated on +terrace, puffing cigar, the red coal of which is alone visible, a slow +curtain_. + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE. _Six months have elapsed. The furnished room of_ LAURA MURDOCK, +_second story back of an ordinary, cheap theatrical lodging-house in +the theatre district of New York. The house is evidently of a type of +the old-fashioned brown-stone front, with high ceilings, dingy walls, +and long, rather insecure windows. The woodwork is depressingly dark. +The ceiling is cracked, the paper is old and spotted and in places +loose. There is a door leading to the hallway. There is a large +old-fashioned wardrobe in which are hung a few old clothes, most +of them a good deal worn and shabby, showing that the owner_--LAURA +MURDOCK--_has had a rather hard time of it since leaving Colorado +in the first act. The doors of this wardrobe must be equipped with +springs so they will open outward, and also furnished with wires so +they can be controlled from the back. This is absolutely necessary, +owing to "business" which is done during the progress of the act. The +drawer in the bottom of the wardrobe is open at rise. This is filled +with a lot of rumpled, tissue-paper and other rubbish. An old pair of +shoes is seen at the upper end of the wardrobe on the floor. There is +an armchair over which is thrown an ordinary kimono, and on top of +the wardrobe are a number of magazines and old books, and an unused +parasol wrapped up in tissue paper._ + +_The dresser, which is upstage, against the wall, is in keeping with +the general meanness, and its adornment consists of old postcards +stuck in between the mirror and its frame, with some well-worn veils +and ribbons hung on the side. On the dresser is a pincushion, a bottle +of cheap perfume, purple in colour and nearly empty; a common crockery +match-holder, containing matches, which must be practicable; a +handkerchief-box, powder-box and puff, rouge-box and rouge paw, +hand mirror, small alcohol curling-iron heater, which must also be +practicable, as it is used in the "business" of the act; scissors, +curling-tongs, hair comb and brush, and a small cheap picture of_ JOHN +MADISON; _a small work-box containing a thimble and thread,--and stuck +in the pincushion are a couple of needles, threaded. Directly to the +left of the bureau, with the door to the outside closet intervening, +is a broken-down washstand, on which is a basin half full of water, a +bottle of tooth-powder, tooth brushes and holder, soap and soap-dish, +and other cheap toilet articles, and a small drinking-glass. Hung on +the corner of the washstand is a soiled towel. Hung on the rack across +the top of the washstand one can see a pair of stockings. On the floor +in front of the washstand is a pitcher half full of water; also a +large waste-water jar of the cheapest type._ + +_Below the washstand, and with the head against the wall, is a +three-quarter old wooden bed, also showing the general decay of the +entire room. Tacked on the head of this bed is a large photo of_ JOHN +MADISON, _with a small bow of dainty blue ribbon at the top, covering +the tack. Under the photo are arranged half a dozen cheap, artificial +violets, in pitiful recognition of the girl's love for her absent +sweetheart._ + +_Under the mattress at the head of the bed is a heavy cardboard box, +about thirty inches long, seven inches wide and four inches deep, +containing about one hundred and twenty-five letters and eighty +telegrams, tied in about eight bundles with dainty ribbon. One bundle +must contain all practical letters of several closely written pages +each, each letter having been opened. They must be written upon +business paper and envelopes, such as are used in newspaper offices +and by business men._ + +_Under the pillow at the head of the bed is carelessly thrown a +woman's night-dress. On the bed is an old book, open, with face +downward, and beside it is an apple which some one has been nibbling. +Across the foot of the bed is a soiled quilt, untidily folded. The +pillows are hollow in the centre, as if having been used lately. At +the foot of the bed is a small table, with soiled and ink-stained +cover, upon which are a cheap pitcher, containing some withered +carnations, and a desk-pad, with paper, pen, ink, and envelopes +scattered around._ + +_Against the wall below the bed is an old mantel-piece and fireplace +with iron grate, such as are used in houses of this type. On the +mantel-piece are photos of actors and actresses, an old mantel clock +in the centre, in front of which is a box of cheap peppermint candy in +large pieces, and a plate with two apples upon it; some cheap pieces +of bric-à-brac and a little vase containing joss-sticks, such as one +might burn to improve the atmosphere of these dingy, damp houses. +Below the mantel-piece is a thirty-six inch theatre trunk, with +theatre labels on it, in the tray of which are articles of clothing, +a small box of thread, and a bundle of eight pawn tickets. Behind the +trunk is a large cardboard box. Hanging from the ceiling directly +over the table is a single arm gas-jet, from which is hung a turkey +wish-bone. On the jet is a little wire arrangement to hold small +articles for heating. Beside the table is a chair. Under the bed are a +pair of bedroom slippers and a box. Between the bed and the mantel +is a small tabourette on which are a book and a candle-stick with +the candle half burned. On the floor in front of the door is a +slipper,--also another in front of the dresser,--as if they had been +thrown carelessly down. On the wardrobe door, on the down-stage side, +is tacked another photo of_ JOHN MADISON. + +_In an alcove off left is a table on which is a small oil stove, two +cups, saucers and plates, a box of matches, tin coffee-box, and a +small Japanese teapot. On a projection outside the window is a pint +milk bottle, half filled with milk, and an empty benzine bottle, which +is labelled. Both are covered with snow._ + +_The backing shows a street snow-covered. In arranging the properties +it must be remembered that in the wardrobe is a box of Uneeda +biscuits, with one end torn open. There is a door down right, opening +inward, leading into the hallway. The window is at back, running from +floor nearly to the ceiling. This window does not rise, but opens in +the manner of the French or door window._ + +_On the outside of the window covering the same is an iron guard such +as is used in New York on the lower back windows. The rods running up +and down are about four inches apart. There is a projection outside +the window such as would be formed by a storm door in the basement; +running the full length of the window and about thirty inches wide, +raised about a foot from the floor in front and about nine inches in +the back, there is opening inward a door at left back, leading into +a small alcove, as has been mentioned before. The door is half glass, +the glass part being the upper half, and is ajar when the curtain +rises. A projection at fireplace such as would be made for a chimney +is in the wall which runs from left centre diagonally to left first +entrance._ + +AT RISE _the stage is empty. After a pause_ LAURA _enters, passes the +dresser, places umbrella at the right, end of it against wall, crosses +to back of armchair, removes gloves, lays them over back of chair, +takes off coat and hat, hangs hat on end of wardrobe, and puts coat +inside; notices old slipper in front of dresser and one on the extreme +right, and with impatience picks them up and puts them in the +wardrobe drawer. Then crosses to dresser, gets needle and thread off +pincushion, and mends small rip in glove, after which she puts gloves +in top drawer of dresser, crosses to extreme end of dresser, and gets +handkerchief out of box, takes up bottle containing purple perfume, +holds it up so she can see there is only a small quantity left, +sprinkles a drop on handkerchief carefully, so as not to use too much, +looks at bottle again to see how much is left, places it on dresser; +goes to up-stage side of bed, kneels on head of the bed and looks +lovingly at photo of_ JOHN MADISON, _and finally pulls up the +mattress, takes out box of letters, and opens it. She then sits down +in Oriental fashion, with her feet under her, selects a bundle of +letters, unties the ribbon, and takes out a letter such as has been +hereinbefore described, glances it over, puts it down in her lap, and +again takes a long look at the picture of_ JOHN MADISON. ANNIE _is +heard coming upstairs_. LAURA _looks quickly towards the door, puts +the letters back in box, and hurriedly places box under mattress, and +replaces pillow_. ANNIE _knocks on door_. LAURA _rises and crosses to +door._ + +LAURA. Come in. + +ANNIE, _a chocolate-colored negress, enters. She is slovenly in +appearance, but must not in any way denote the "mammy." She is the +type one encounters in cheap theatrical lodging-houses. She has a +letter in her hand,--also a clean towel folded,--and approaches_ +LAURA. + +LAURA. Hello, Annie. + +ANNIE. Heah's yo' mail, Miss Laura. + +LAURA. [_Taking letter._] Thank you! + +[_She looks at the address and does not open it._ + +ANNIE. One like dat comes every mornin', don't it? Used to all be +postmahked Denver. Must 'a' moved. [_Trying to look over_ LAURA'S +_shoulder_; LAURA _turns and sees her_; ANNIE _looks away._] Where is +dat place called Goldfield, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. In Nevada. + +ANNIE. In _Nevada_? + +LAURA. Yes, Nevada. + +ANNIE. [_Draws her jacket closer around her as if chilly._] Must +be mighty smaht to write yuh every day. De pos'man brings it 'leven +o'clock mos' always, sometimes twelve, and again sometimes tehn; but +it comes every day, don't it? + +LAURA. I know. + +ANNIE. [_Crosses to right of armchair, brushes it off and makes an +effort to read letter, leaning across chair._] Guess must be from yo' +husban', ain't it? + +LAURA. No, I haven't any. + +ANNIE. [_Crossing to centre triumphantly._] Dat's what Ah tole Mis' +Farley when she was down talkin' about you dis morning. She said if he +all was yo' husband he might do somethin' to help you out. Ah told her +Ah didn't think you had any husban'. Den she says you ought to have +one, you're so pretty. + +LAURA. Oh, Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Sees door open; goes and bangs it shut._] Der ain't a decent +door in dis old house. Mis' Farley said yo' might have mos' any man +you [_Hangs clean towel on washstand._] wanted just for de askin', but +Ah said yuh [_Takes newspaper and books off bed, and places them on +table._] was too particular about the man yo' 'd want. Den she did a +heap o' talking. + +LAURA. About what? [_Places letter open on table, looks at hem of +skirt, discovers a rip, rises, crosses up to dresser, gets needle, +crosses down to trunk; opens and takes thimble out; closes lid of +tray, sits on it, and sews skirt during scene._ + +ANNIE. [_At bed, fussing around, folds nightgown and places it under +pillow._] Well, you know, Mis' Farley she's been havin' so much +trouble wid her roomers. Yestuhday dat young lady on de second flo' +front, she lef'. She's goin' wiv some troupe on the road. She owed her +room for three weeks and jus' had to leave her trunk. [_Crosses and +fusses over table._] My! how Mis' Farley did scold her. Mis' Farley +let on she could have paid dat money if she wanted to, but somehow Ah +guess she couldn't-- + +[_Reads letter on table._ + +LAURA. [_Sees her, angrily exclaims._] Annie! + +ANNIE. [_In confusion, brushing off table._]--for if she could she +wouldn't have left her trunk, would she, Miss Laura? + +[_Crosses to armchair, and picks up kimono off back._ + +LAURA. No, I suppose not. What did Mrs. Farley say about me? + +ANNIE. Oh! nothin' much. [_Crosses left and stands._ + +LAURA. Well, what? + +ANNIE. She kinder say somethin' 'bout yo' being three weeks behind in +yo' room rent, and she said she t'ought it was 'bout time yuh handed +her somethin', seein' as how yuh must o' had some stylish friends when +yuh come here. + +LAURA. Who, for instance? + +ANNIE. Ah don't know. Mis' Farley said some of 'em might slip yo' +enough jest to help yuh out. [_Pause._] Ain't yo' got nobody to take +care of you at all, Miss Laura? + +[_Hangs kimono over back of armchair._ + +LAURA. No! No one. + +ANNIE. Dat's too bad. + +LAURA. Why? + +ANNIE. [_Crossing again._] Mis' Farley says yuh wouldn't have no +trouble at all gettin' any man to take care of yuh if yuh wanted to. + +LAURA. [_With sorrowful shudder._] Please [_Doors of wardrobe open +very slowly._] don't, Annie. + +ANNIE. Dere's a gemman [_Playing with corner of tablecloth._] dat +calls on one of de ladies from the Hippodrome, in de big front room +downstairs. He's mighty nice, and he's been askin' 'bout you. + +LAURA. [_Exasperated._] Oh, shut up! + +ANNIE. [_Sees doors of wardrobe have swung open; she crosses, slams +them shut, turns to_ LAURA.] Mis' Farley says--[_Doors have swung open +again; they hit her in the back. She turns and bangs them to with all +her strength_.] Damn dat door! [_Crosses to washstand, grabs basin +which is half full of water, empties same into waste-jar, puts basin +on washstand, and wipes it out with soiled towel_.] Mis' Farley says +if she don't get someone in the house dat has reg'lar money soon, +she'll have to shut up and go to the po'house. + +LAURA. I'm sorry; I'll try again to-day. [_Rises, crosses up to +mantel, gets desk-pad, &c., crosses to right of table, sits_. + +ANNIE. [_Crosses to back of bed, wiping basin with towel_.] Ain't yo' +got any job at all? + +LAURA. No. + +ANNIE. When yuh come here yuh had lots of money and yo' was mighty +good to me. You know Mr. Weston? + +LAURA. Jim Weston? + +ANNIE. Yassum, Mr. Weston what goes ahead o' shows and lives on the +top floor back; he says nobody's got jobs now. Dey're so many actors +and actoresses out o' work. Mis' Farley says she don't know how she's +goin' to live. She said you'd been mighty nice up until three weeks +ago, but yuh ain't got much left, have you, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. [_Rising and going to the bureau_.] No. It's all gone. + +ANNIE. Mah sakes! All dem rings and things? You ain't done sold them? +[_Sinks on bed_. + +LAURA. They're pawned. What did Mrs. Farley say she was going to do? + +ANNIE. Guess maybe Ah'd better not tell. + +[_Crosses to door hurriedly, carrying soiled towel_. + +LAURA. Please do. [_Crosses to chair, left side_. + +ANNIE. Yuh been so good to me, Miss Laura. Never was nobody in dis +house what give me so much, and Ah ain't been gettin' much lately. And +when Mis' Farley said yuh must either pay yo' rent or she would ask +yuh for your room, Ah jest set right down on de back kitchen stairs +and cried. Besides, Mis' Farley don't like me very well since you've +ben havin' yo' breakfasts and dinners brought up here. + +LAURA. Why not? [_Takes kimono of chair-back, crosses up to dresser, +puts kimono in drawer, takes out purse_. + +ANNIE. She has a rule in dis house dat nobody can use huh chiny or +fo'ks or spoons who ain't boa'ding heah, and de odder day when yuh +asked me to bring up a knife and fo'k she ketched me coming upstairs, +and she says, "Where yuh goin' wid all dose things, Annie?" Ah said, +"Ah'm just goin' up to Miss Laura's room with dat knife and fo'k." Ah +said, "Ah'm goin' up for nothin' at all, Mis' Farley, she jest wants +to look at them, Ah guess." She said, "She wants to eat huh dinner wid +'em, Ah guess." Ah got real mad, and Ah told her if she'd give me mah +pay Ah'd brush right out o' here; dat's what Ah'd do, Ah'd brush right +out o' here. [_Violently shaking out towel_. + +LAURA. I'm sorry, Annie, if I've caused you any trouble. Never mind, +I'll be able to pay the rent to-morrow or next day anyway. [_She +fumbles in purse, takes out a quarter, and turns to_ ANNIE.] Here! + +ANNIE. No, ma'am, Ah don' want dat. + +[_Making a show of reluctance_. + +LAURA. Please take it. + +ANNIE. No, ma'am, Ah don' want it. You need dat. Dat's breakfast money +for yuh, Miss Laura. + +LAURA. Please take it, Annie. I might just as well get rid of this as +anything else. + +ANNIE. [_Takes it rather reluctantly_.] Yuh always was so good, Miss +Laura. Sho' yuh don' want dis? + +LAURA. Sure. + +ANNIE. Sho' yo' goin' to get planty mo'? + +LAURA. Sure. + +MRS. FARLEY'S VOICE. [_Downstairs_.] Annie! Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Going to door, opens it_.] Dat's Mis' Farley. [_To_ MRS. +FARLEY.] Yassum, Mis' Farley. + +SAME VOICE. Is Miss Murdock up there? + +ANNIE. Yassum, Mis' Farley, yassum! + +MRS. FARLEY. Anything doin'? + +ANNIE. Huh? + +MRS. FARLEY. Anything doin'? + +ANNIE. [_At door_.] Ah--Ah--hain't asked, Missy Farley. + +MRS. FARLEY. Then do it. + +LAURA. [_Coming to the rescue at the door. To_ ANNIE.] I'll answer +her. [_Out of door to_ MRS. FARLEY.] What is it, Mrs. Farley? + +MRS. FARLEY. [_Her voice softened_.] Did ye have any luck this +morning, dearie? + +LAURA. No; but I promise you faithfully to help you out this afternoon +or to-morrow. + +MRS. FARLEY. Sure? Are you certain? + +LAURA. Absolutely. + +MRS. FARLEY. Well, I must say these people expect me to keep--[_Door +closed_. + +LAURA _quietly closes the door, and_ MRS. FARLEY'S _rather strident +voice is heard indistinctly_. LAURA _sighs and walks toward table; +sits_. ANNIE _looks after her, and then slowly opens the door_. + +ANNIE. Yo' sho' dere ain't nothin' I can do fo' yuh, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. Nothing. + +ANNIE _exits_. LAURA _sits down and looks at letter, opening it. It +consists of several pages closely written. She reads some of them +hurriedly, skims through the rest, and then turns to the last page +without reading; glances at it; lays it on table; rises_. + +LAURA. Hope, just nothing but hope. + +_She crosses to bed, falls face down upon it, burying her face in her +hands. Her despondency is palpable. As she lies there a hurdy-gurdy +in the street starts to play a popular air. This arouses her and she +rises, crosses to wardrobe, takes out box of crackers, opens window, +gets bottle of milk off sill outside, places them on table, gets glass +off washstand, at the same time humming the tune of the hurdy-gurdy, +when a knock comes; she crosses quickly to dresser; powders her nose. +The knock is timidly repeated_. + +LAURA. [_Without turning, and in a rather tired tone of voice_.] Come +in. + +JIM WESTON, _a rather shabby theatrical advance-agent of the old +school, enters timidly, halting at the door and holding the knob in +his hand. He is a man of about forty years old, dressed in an ordinary +manner, of medium height, and in fact has the appearance of a once +prosperous clerk who has been in hard luck. His relations with_ +LAURA _are those of pure friendship. They both live in the same +lodging-place, and, both having been out of employment, they have +naturally become acquainted_. + +JIM. Can I come in? + +LAURA. [_Without turning_.] Hello, Jim Weston. [_He closes door and +enters_.] Any luck? + +JIM. Lots of it. + +LAURA. That's good. Tell me. + +JIM. It's bad luck. Guess you don't want to hear. + +LAURA. I'm sorry. Where have you been? + +JIM. I kind o' felt around up at Burgess's office. I thought I might +get a job there, but he put me off until to-morrow. Somehow those +fellows always do business to-morrow. + +[_Hurdy-gurdy dies out_. + +LAURA. Yes, and there's always to-day to look after. + +JIM. I'm ready to give up. I've tramped Broadway for nine weeks until +every piece of flagstone gives me the laugh when it sees my feet +coming. Got a letter from the missis this morning. The kids got to +have some clothes, there's measles in the town, and mumps in the next +village. I've just got to raise some money or get some work, or the +first thing you'll know I'll be hanging around Central Park on a dark +night with a club. + +LAURA. I know just how you feel. Sit down, Jim. [JIM _crosses and +sits in chair right of table_.] It's pretty tough for me [_Offers_ JIM +_glass of milk; he refuses; takes crackers_.], but it must be a whole +lot worse for you with a wife and kids. + +JIM. Oh, if a man's alone he can generally get along--turn his hand to +anything; but a woman-- + +LAURA. Worse, you think? + +JIM. I was just thinking about you and what Burgess said? + +LAURA. What was that? + +[_Crosses to bed; sits on up-stage side, sipping milk_. + +JIM. You know Burgess and I used to be in the circus business +together. He took care of the grafters when I was boss canvas man. I +never could see any good in shaking down the rubes for all the money +they had and then taking part of it. He used to run the privilege car, +you know. + +LAURA. Privilege car? + +JIM. Had charge of all the pickpockets,--dips we called +'em--sure-thing gamblers, and the like. Made him rich. I kept sort o' +on the level and I'm broke. Guess it don't pay to be honest-- + +LAURA. [_Turns to him and in a significant voice_:] You don't really +think that? + +JIM. No, maybe not. Ever since I married the missis and the first kid +come, we figured the only good money was the kind folks worked for and +earned; but when you can't get hold of that, it's tough. + +LAURA. I know. + +JIM. Burgess don't seem to be losing sleep over the tricks he's +turned. He's happy and prosperous, but I guess he ain't any better now +than he was then. + +LAURA. Maybe not. I've been trying to get an engagement from him. +There are half a dozen parts in his new attractions that I could do, +but he has never absolutely said "no," but yet somehow he's never said +"yes." + +JIM. He spoke about you. + +LAURA. In what way? [_Rising, stands behind_ JIM'S _chair._ + +JIM. I gave him my address and he seen it was yours, too. Asked if I +lived in the same place. + +LAURA. Was that all? + +JIM. Wanted to know how you was getting on. I let him know you needed +work, but I didn't tip my hand you was flat broke. He said something +about you being a damned fool. + +LAURA. [_Suddenly and interested._] How? [_She crosses._ + +JIM. Well, Johnny Ensworth--you know he used to do the fights on the +_Evening Journal_; now he's press-agent for Burgess; nice fellow and +way on the inside--he told me where you were in wrong. + +LAURA. What have I done? [_Sits in armchair._ + +JIM. Burgess don't put up the money for any of them musical +comedies--he just trails. Of course he's got a lot of influence, and +he's always Johnny-on-the-Spot to turn any dirty trick that they +want. There are four or five rich men in town who are there with the +bank-roll, providing he engages women who ain't so very particular +about the location of their residence, and who don't hear a curfew +ring at 11:30 every night. + +LAURA. And he thinks I am too particular? + +JIM. That's what was slipped me. Seems that one of the richest men +that is in on Mr. Burgess's address-book is a fellow named Brockton +from downtown some place. He's got more money than the Shoe and +Leather National Bank. He likes to play show business. + +LAURA. [_Rises quickly._] Oh! [_Crosses to wardrobe, gets hat; crosses +to dresser, gets scissors with intention of curling feathers._ + +JIM. I thought you knew him. I thought it was just as well to tell you +where he and Burgess stand. They're pals. + +LAURA. [_Coming over to_ JIM _and with emphasis crosses to down-stage +side of bed; puts hat and scissors on bed._] I don't want you to talk +about him or any of them. I just want you to know that I'm trying to +do everything in my power to go through this season without any more +trouble. I've pawned everything I've got; I've cut every friend I +knew. But where am I going to end? That's what I want to know--where +am I going to end? [_To bed and sits_.] Every place I look for a +position something interferes. It's almost as if I were blacklisted. +I know I could get jobs all right if I wanted to pay the price, but I +won't. I just want to tell you, I won't. No! + +[_Rises, crosses to mantel, rests elbow._ + +JIM. That's the way to talk. [_Rises._] I don't know you very well, +but I've watched you close. I'm just a common, ordinary showman who +never had much money, and I'm going out o' date. I've spent most of +my time with nigger-minstrel shows and circuses, but I've been on the +square. That's why I'm broke. [_Rather sadly._] Once I thought +the missis would have to go back and do her acrobatic act, but she +couldn't do that, she's grown so damn fat. [_Crosses to_ LAURA.] Just +you don't mind. It'll all come out right. + +LAURA. It's an awful tough game, isn't it? + +JIM. [_During this speech_ LAURA _gets cup, pours milk back into +bottle, closes biscuit-box, puts milk on shed outside, and biscuits +into wardrobe, cup in alcove._] It's hell forty ways from the Jack. +It's tough for me, but for a pretty woman with a lot o' rich fools +jumping out o' their automobiles and hanging around stage doors, +it must be something awful. I ain't blaming the women. They say +"self-preservation is the first law of nature," and I guess that's +right; but sometimes when the show is over and I see them fellows with +their hair plastered back, smoking cigarettes in a [LAURA _crosses +to chair right of table and leans over back._] holder long enough to +reach from here to Harlem, and a bank-roll that would bust my pocket +and turn my head, I feel as if I'd like to get a gun and go a-shooting +around this old town. + +LAURA. Jim! + +JIM. Yes, I do--you bet. + +LAURA. That wouldn't pay, would it? + +JIM. No, they're not worth the job of sitting on that throne in Sing +Sing, and I'm too poor to go to Matteawan. But all them fellows under +nineteen and over fifty-nine ain't much use to themselves or anyone +else. + +LAURA. [_Rather meditatively._] Perhaps all of them are not so bad. + +JIM. [_Sits on bed._] Yes, they are,--angels and all. Last season I +had one of them shows where a rich fellow backed it on account of a +girl. We lost money and he lost his girl; then we got stuck in +Texas. I telegraphed: "Must have a thousand, or can't move." He just +answered: "Don't move." We didn't. + +LAURA. But that was business. + +JIM. Bad business. It took a year for some of them folks to get back +to Broadway. Some of the girls never did, and I guess never will. + +LAURA. Maybe they're better off, Jim. [_Sits right of table._ + +JIM. Couldn't be worse. They're still in Texas. [_To himself._] Wish I +knew how to do something else, being a plumber or a walking delegate; +they always have jobs. + +LAURA. Well, I wish I could do something else too, but I can't, and +we've got to make the best of it. + +JIM. I guess so. I'll see you this evening. I hope you'll have good +news by that time. [_Starts to exit, about to open door; then retreats +a step, with hand on door-knob, crosses and in a voice meant to be +kindly_] If you'd like to go to the theatre to-night, and take some +other woman in the house, maybe I can get a couple of tickets for some +of the shows. I know a lot of fellows who are working. + +LAURA. No, thanks. I haven't anything to wear to the theatre, and I +don't-- + +JIM. [_With a smile crosses to_ LAURA, _puts arm around her._] Now you +just cheer up! Something's sure to turn up. It always has for me, and +I'm a lot older than you, both in years and in this business. There's +always a break in hard luck sometime--that's sure. + +LAURA. [_Smiling through her tears._] I hope so. But things are +looking pretty hopeless now, aren't they? + +JIM. I'll go down and give Mrs. F. a line o' talk and try to square +you for a couple of days more anyway. But I guess she's laying pretty +close to the cushion herself, poor woman. + +LAURA. Annie says a lot of people owe her. + +JIM. Well, you can't pay what you haven't got. And even if money was +growing on trees, it's winter now. [JIM _goes towards door._] I'm off. +Maybe to-day is lucky day. So long! + +LAURA. Good-bye. + +JIM. Keep your nerve. [_Exit_ + +LAURA. I will. [_She sits for a moment in deep thought, picks up the +letter received, as if to read it, and then throws it down in anger. +She buries her head in hands_.] I can't stand it--I just simply can't +stand it. + +MRS. FARLEY'S VOICE. [_Off stage_.] Miss Murdock--Miss Murdock. + +LAURA. [_Brushing away tears, rises, goes to door, and opens it_.] +What is it? + +SAME VOICE. There's a lady down here to see you. + +ELFIE'S VOICE. [_Off stage_.] Hello, dearie, can I come up? + +LAURA. Is that you, Elfie? + +ELFIE. Yes; shall I come up? + +LAURA. Why, certainly. + +_She waits at the door for a moment, and_ ELFIE ST. CLAIR _appears. +She is gorgeously gowned in the rather extreme style affected by the +usual New York woman who is cared for by a gentleman of wealth and +who has not gone through the formality of matrimonial alliance. Her +conduct is always exaggerated and her attitude vigorous. Her gown is +of the latest design, and in every detail of dress she shows evidence +of most extravagant expenditure. She carries a hand-bag of gold, +upon which are attached such trifles as a gold cigarette-case, a gold +powder-box, pencils, and the like_. ELFIE _throws her arms around_ +LAURA, _and both exchange kisses_. + +ELFIE. Laura, you old dear [_Crossing to table_.], I've just found out +where you've been hiding, and came around to see you. + +LAURA. [_Who is much brightened by_ ELFIE'S _appearance_.] Elfie, +you're looking bully. How are you, dear? + +ELFIE. Fine. + +LAURA. Come in and sit down. I haven't much to offer, but-- + +ELFIE. Oh, never mind. It's such a grand day outside, and I've come +around in my car to take you out. [_Sits right of table_.] You know +I've got a new one, and it can go some. + +LAURA. [_Sits on arm of chair_.] I am sorry, but I can't go out this +afternoon, Elfie. + +ELFIE. What's the matter? + +LAURA. You see I'm staying home a good deal nowadays. I haven't been +feeling very well and I don't go out much. + +ELFIE. I should think not. I haven't seen you in Rector's or Martin's +since you come back from Denver. Got a glimpse of you one day trailing +up Broadway, but couldn't get to you--you dived into some office or +other. [_For the first time she surveys the room, rises, looks around +critically, crossing to mantel_.] Gee! Whatever made you come into a +dump like this? It's the limit. + +LAURA. [_Crossing and standing back of the table_.] Oh, I know it +isn't pleasant, but it's my home, and after all--a home's a home. + +ELFIE. Looks more like a prison. [_Takes candy from mantel; spits it +out on floor_.] Makes me think of the old days of Child's sinkers and +a hall bedroom. + +LAURA. It's comfortable. [_Leaning hands on table_. + +ELFIE. Not! [_Sits on bed, trying bed with comedy effect_. Say, is +this here for an effect, or do you sleep on it? + +LAURA. I sleep on it. + +ELFIE. No wonder you look tired. Say, listen, dearie. What else is the +matter with you anyway? + +LAURA. Nothing. + +ELFIE. Yes, there is. What happened between you and Brockton? +[_Notices faded flowers in vase on table; takes them out, tosses them +into fireplace, replaces them with gardenias which she wears_.] He's +not broke, because I saw him the other day. + +LAURA. Where? + +ELFIE. In the park. Asked me out to luncheon, but I couldn't go. You +know, dearie, I've got to be so careful. Jerry's so awful jealous--the +old fool. + +LAURA. Do you see much of Jerry nowadays, Elfie? + +ELFIE. Not any more than I can help and be nice. He gets on my nerves. +Of course, I've heard about your quitting Brockton. + +LAURA. Then why do you ask? + +[_Crosses around chair right of table; stands_. + +ELFIE. Just wanted to hear from your own dear lips what the trouble +was. Now tell me all about it. Can I smoke here? + +[_Takes cigarette-case up, opens it, selecting cigarette_. + +LAURA. Surely. [_Gets matches off bureau, puts them on table_. + +ELFIE. Have one? [_Offers case_. + +LAURA. No, thank you. + +[_Sits in chair right of table, facing_ ELFIE. + +ELFIE. H'm-m, h'm-m, hah! [_Lights cigarette_.] Now go ahead. Tell me +all the scandal. I'm just crazy to know. + +LAURA. There's nothing to tell. I haven't been able to find work, that +is all, and I'm short of money. You can't live in hotels, you know, +with cabs and all that sort of thing, when you're not working. + +ELFIE. Yes, you can. I haven't worked in a year. + +LAURA. But you don't understand, dear. I--I--Well, you know I--well, +you know--I can't say what I want. + +ELFIE. Oh, yes, you can. You can say anything to me--everybody else +does. We've been pals. I know you got along a little faster in the +business than I did. The chorus was my limit, and you went into the +legitimate thing. But we got our living just the same way. I didn't +suppose there was any secret between you and me about that. + +LAURA. I know there wasn't then, Elfie, but I tell you I'm different +now. I don't want to do that sort of thing, and I've been very +unlucky. This has been a terribly hard season for me. I simply haven't +been able to get an engagement. + +ELFIE. Well, you can't get on this way. Won't [_Pauses, knocking ashes +off cigarette to cover hesitation_.] Brockton help you out? + +LAURA. What's the use of talking to you [_Rises and crosses to +fireplace_.], Elfie; you don't understand. + +ELFIE. [_Puffing deliberately on cigarette and crossing her legs in +almost a masculine attitude_.] No? Why don't I understand? + +LAURA. Because you can't; you've never felt as I have. + +ELFIE. How do you know? + +LAURA. [_Turning impatiently_.] Oh, what's the use of explaining? + +ELFIE. You know, Laura, I'm not much on giving advice, but you make me +sick. I thought you'd grown wise. A young girl just butting into this +business might possibly make a fool of herself, but you ought to be on +to the game and make the best of it. + +LAURA. [_Going over to her angrily_.] If you came up here, Elfie, to +talk that sort of stuff to me, please don't. I was West this summer. +I met someone, a real man, who did me a whole lot of good,--a man who +opened my eyes to a different way of going along--a man who--Oh, well, +what's the use? You don't know--you don't know. [_Sits on bed_. + +ELFIE. [_Throws cigarette into fireplace_.] I don't know, don't I? I +don't know, I suppose, that when I came to this town from up state,--a +little burg named Oswego,--and joined a chorus, that I didn't fall in +love with just such a man. I suppose I don't know that then I was +the best-looking girl in New York, and everybody talked about me? I +suppose I don't know that there were men, all ages and with all kinds +of money, ready to give me anything for the mere privilege of taking +me out to supper? And I didn't do it, did I? For three years I stuck +by this good man who was to lead me in a good way toward a good life. +And all the time I was getting older, never quite so pretty one day +as I had been the day before. I never knew then what it was to be +tinkered with by hair-dressers and manicures or a hundred and one of +those other people who make you look good. I didn't have to have them +then. [_Rises, crosses to right of table, facing_ LAURA.] Well, you +know, Laura, what happened. + +LAURA. Wasn't it partly your fault, Elfie? + +ELFIE. [_Speaking across table angrily._] Was it my fault that time +made me older and I took on a lot of flesh? Was it my fault that the +work and the life took out the colour, and left the make-up? Was it my +fault that other pretty young girls came along, just as I'd come, and +were chased after, just as I was? Was it my fault the cabs weren't +waiting any more and people didn't talk about how pretty I was? And +was it my fault when he finally had me alone, and just because no one +else wanted me, he got tired and threw me flat--cold flat [_Brings +hand down on table._]--and I'd been on the dead level with him! [_With +almost a sob, crosses up to bureau, powders nose, comes down back of +table._] It almost broke my heart. Then I made up my mind to get +even and get all I could out of the game. Jerry came along. He was a +has-been and I was on the road to be. He wanted to be good to me, and +I let him. That's all. + +LAURA. Still, I don't see how you can live that way. + +[_Lies on bed._ + +ELFIE. Well, you did, and you didn't kick. + +LAURA. Yes, but things are different with me now. You'd be the same +way if you were in my place. + +ELFIE. No. I've had all the romance I want, and I'll stake you to all +your love affairs. [_Crosses back of bed, touches picture over bed._] +I am out to gather in as much coin as I can in my own way, so when the +old rainy day comes along I'll have a little change to buy myself an +umbrella. + +LAURA. [_Rising and angrily crossing to armchair._] What did you come +here for? Why can't you leave me alone when I'm trying to get along? + +ELFIE. Because I want to help you. + +LAURA. [_During speech crosses to up-stage side of bed, angrily tosses +quilt to floor and sits on bed in tears._] You can't help me. I'm all +right--I tell you I am. What do you care anyway? + +ELFIE. [_Sits on bed, crosses down stage to lower left side of bed, +sits facing_ LAURA.] But I do care. I know how you feel with an old +cat for a landlady and living up here on a side street with a lot of +cheap burlesque people. Why, the room's cold [LAURA _rises, crosses +to window._], and there's no hot water, and you're beginning to look +shabby. You haven't got a job--chances are you won't have one. What +does [_Indicating picture on bed with thumb._] this fellow out there +do for you? Send you long letters of condolences? That's what I used +to get. When I wanted to buy a new pair of shoes or a silk petticoat, +he told me how much he loved me; so I had the other ones re-soled and +turned the old petticoat. And look at you, you're beginning to show +it. [_She surveys her carefully._] I do believe there are lines coming +in your face [LAURA _crosses to dresser quickly, picks up hand mirror, +and looks at herself._], and you hide in the house because you've +nothing new to wear. + +LAURA. [_Puts down mirror, crossing down to back of bed._] But I've +got what you haven't got. I may have to hide my clothes, but I don't +have to hide my face. And you with that man--he's old enough to be +your father--a toddling dote hanging on your apron-strings. I don't +see how you dare show your face to a decent woman. + +ELFIE. [_Rises._] You don't!--but you did once and I never caught you +hanging your head. You say he's old. I know he's old, but he's good to +me. He's making what's left of my life pleasant. You think I like him. +I don't,--sometimes I hate him,--but he understands; and you can bet +your life his check is in my mail every Saturday night or there's a +new lock on the door Sunday morning. [_Crossing to fireplace._ + +LAURA. How can you say such things to me? + +ELFIE. [_Crosses to left end of table._] Because I want you to be +square with yourself. You've lost all that precious virtue women gab +about. When you've got the name, I say get the game. + +LAURA. You can go now, Elfie, and don't come back. + +ELFIE. [_Gathering up muff, &c._] All right, if that's the way you +want it to be, I'm sorry. [_A knock on the door._ + +LAURA. [_Controlling herself after a moment's hesitation._] Come in. + +ANNIE _enters with a note, crosses, and hands it to_ LAURA. + +ANNIE. Mis' Farley sent dis, Miss Laura. + +[LAURA _takes the note and reads it. She is palpably annoyed_. + +LAURA. There's no answer. + +ANNIE. She tol' me not to leave until Ah got an answah. + +LAURA. You must ask her to wait. + +ANNIE. She wants an answah. + +LAURA. Tell her I'll be right down--that it will be all right. + +ANNIE. But, Miss Laura, she tol' me to get an answah. + +[_Exit reluctantly_. + +LAURA. [_Half to herself and half to_ ELFIE.] She's taking advantage +of your being here. [_Standing near door_. + +ELFIE. How? + +LAURA. She wants money--three weeks' room-rent. I presume she thought +you'd give it to me. + +ELFIE. Huh! [_Moves to left_. + +LAURA. [_Crossing to table_.] Elfie, I've been a little cross; I +didn't mean it. + +ELFIE. Well? + +LAURA. Could--could you lend me thirty-five dollars until I get to +work? + +ELFIE. Me? + +LAURA. Yes. + +ELFIE. Lend _you_ thirty-five dollars? + +LAURA. Yes; you've got plenty of money to spare. + +ELFIE. Well, you certainly have got a nerve. + +LAURA. You might give it to me. I haven't a dollar in the world, and +you pretend to be such a friend to me! + +ELFIE. [_Turning and angrily speaking across table_.] So that's the +kind of woman you are, eh? A moment ago you were going to kick me out +of the place because I wasn't decent enough to associate with you. +You know how I live. You know how I get my money--the same way you got +most of yours. And now that you've got this spasm of goodness I'm not +fit to be in your room; but you'll take my money to pay your debts. +You'll let me go out and do this sort of thing for your benefit, while +you try to play the grand lady. I've got your number now, Laura. Where +in hell is your virtue anyway? You can go to the devil--rich, poor, or +any other way. I'm off! ELFIE _rushes toward door; for a moment_ LAURA +_stands speechless, then bursts into hysterics_. + +LAURA. Elfie! Elfie! Don't go now! Don't leave me now! [ELFIE +_hesitates with hand on door-knob_.] I can't stand it. I can't be +alone. Don't go, please; don't go. + +LAURA _falls into_ ELFIE'S _arms, sobbing. In a moment_ ELFIE'S _whole +demeanour changes and she melts into the tenderest womanly sympathy, +trying her best to express herself in her crude way_. + +ELFIE. There, old girl, don't cry, don't cry. You just sit down here +and let me put my arms around you. [ELFIE _leads_ LAURA _over to +armchair, places muff, &c., in chair, and sits_ LAURA _down in chair_. +ELFIE _sits on right arm of chair with her left arm behind_ LAURA; +_hugs_ LAURA _to her_. LAURA _in tears and sobbing during scene_.] +I'm awful sorry--on the level, I am. I shouldn't have said it. I know +that. But I've got feelings too, even if folks don't give me credit +for it. + +LAURA. I know, Elfie. I've gone through about all I can stand. + +ELFIE. Well, I should say you have--and more than I would. Anyway a +good cry never hurts any woman. I have one myself, sometimes--under +cover. + +LAURA. [_More seriously, recovering herself_.] Perhaps what you said +was true. + +ELFIE. We won't talk about it. + +[_Wiping_ LAURA'S _eyes and kissing her_. + +LAURA. [_With persistence_.] But perhaps it was true, and, Elfie-- + +ELFIE. Yes. + +LAURA. I think I've stood this just as long as I can. Every day is a +living horror. + +ELFIE. [_Looking around room_.] It's the limit. + +LAURA. I've got to have money to pay the rent. I've pawned everything +I have, except the clothes on my back. + +ELFIE. I'll give you all the money you need, dearie. Great heavens, +don't worry about that. Don't you care if I got sore and--and lost my +head. + +LAURA. No; I can't let you do that. [_Rises; crosses to table_.] You +may have been mad,--awfully mad,--but what you said was the truth. I +can't take your money. [_Sits right of table_. + +ELFIE. Oh, forget that. [_Rises, crosses to centre_. + +LAURA. Maybe--maybe if he knew all about it--the suffering--he +wouldn't blame me. + +ELFIE. Who--the good man who wanted to lead you to the good life +without even a bread-basket for an advance-agent? Huh! + +LAURA. Still he doesn't know how desperately poor I am. + +ELFIE. He knows you're out of work, don't he? + +LAURA. [_Turning to_ ELFIE.] Not exactly. I've let him think that I'm +getting along all right. + +ELFIE. Then you're a chump. Hasn't he sent you anything? + +LAURA. He hasn't anything to send. + +ELFIE. Well, what does he think you're going to live on?--asphalt +croquettes with conversation sauce? + +LAURA. I don't know--I don't know. [_Sobbing_. + +ELFIE. [_Crosses to_ LAURA, _puts arms around her_.] Don't be foolish, +dearie. You know there is somebody waiting for you--somebody who'll be +good to you and get you out of this mess. + +LAURA. You mean Will Brockton? [_Looking up_. + +ELFIE. Yes. + +LAURA. Do you know where he is? + +ELFIE. Yes. + +LAURA. Well? + +ELFIE. You won't get sore again if I tell you, will you? + +LAURA. No--why? [_Rises_. + +ELFIE. He's downstairs--waiting in the car. I promised to tell him +what you said. + +LAURA. Then it was all planned, and--and-- + +ELFIE. Now, dearie, I knew you were up against it, and I wanted to +bring you two together. He's got half of the Burgess shows, and if +you'll only see him everything will be fixed. + +LAURA. When does he want to see me? + +ELFIE. Now. + +LAURA. Here? + +ELFIE. Yes. Shall I tell him to come up? + +LAURA. [_After a long pause, crossing around to bed, down-stage +side_.] Yes. + +ELFIE. [_Suddenly becomes animated_.] Now you're a sensible dear. I'll +bet he's half frozen down there. [_Goes to door_.] I'll send him up. +Look at you, Laura, you're a sight. [_Crosses to_ LAURA, _takes her +by hand, leads her up to washstand, takes towel and wipes_ LAURA'S +_eyes_.] It'll never do to have him see you looking like this; come +over here and let me fix your eyes. Now, Laura, I want you to promise +me you won't do any more crying. [_Leads_ LAURA _over to dresser, +takes powder-puff and powders_ LAURA'S _face_.] Come over here and let +me powder your nose. Now when he comes up you tell him he has got to +blow us all off to a dinner to-night at Martin's, seven-thirty. Let me +look at you. Now you're all right. [_After daubing_ LAURA'S _face with +the rouge paw_, ELFIE _takes_ LAURA'S _face in her hands and kisses +her_.] Make it strong now, seven-thirty, don't forget. I'll be there. +[_Crosses to armchair, gathers up muff, &c_.] So long. + +[_Exit_. + +_After_ ELFIE'S _exit_ LAURA _crosses slowly to wardrobe, pulls off +picture of_ JOHN; _crosses to dresser, takes picture of_ JOHN _from +there; carries both pictures over to bed; kneels on bed, pulls down +picture at head of bed; places all three pictures under pillow_. WILL +_is heard coming upstairs, and knocks_. + +LAURA. Come in. + +WILL _enters. His dress is that of a man of business, the time being +about February. He is well groomed and brings with him the impression +of easy luxury_. + +WILL. [_As he enters_.] Hello, Laura. + +_There is an obvious embarrassment on the part of each of them. She +rises, goes to him and extends her hand_. + +LAURA. I'm--I'm glad to see you, Will. + +WILL. Thank you. + +LAURA. Won't you sit down? + +WILL. [_Regaining his ease of manner_.] Thank you again. + +[_Puts hat and cane at end of wardrobe; removes overcoat and places it +on back of armchair; sits in armchair_. + +LAURA. [_Sits right of table_.] It's rather cold out, isn't it? + +WILL. Just a bit sharp. + +LAURA. You came with Elfie in the car? + +WILL. She picked me up at Martin's; we lunched there. + +LAURA. By appointment? + +WILL. I'd asked her. + +LAURA. Well? + +WILL. Well, Laura. + +LAURA. She told you? + +WILL. Not a great deal. What do you want to tell me? + +LAURA. [_Very simply, and avoiding his glance_.] Will, I'm ready to +come back. + +WILL. [_With an effort concealing his sense of triumph and +satisfaction. Rises, crosses to_ LAURA.] I'm mighty glad of that, +Laura. I've missed you like the very devil. + +LAURA. Do we--do we have to talk it over much? + +[_Crosses to left of table in front of bed_. + +WILL. Not at all unless you want to. I understand--in fact, I always +have. + +LAURA. [_Wearily_.] Yes, I guess you always did. I didn't. + +[_Crosses and sits right of table_. + +WILL. It will be just the same as it was before, you know. + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. I didn't think it was possible for me to miss anyone the way I +have you. I've been lonely. + +LAURA. That's nice in you to say that. + +WILL. You'll have to move out of here right away. [_Crossing to back +of table, surveying room_.] This place is enough to give one the +colly-wabbles. If you'll be ready to-morrow I'll send my man over to +help you take care of the luggage. + +LAURA. To-morrow will be all right, thank you. + +WILL. And you'll need some money in the meantime. I'll leave this +here. + +[_He takes a roll of bills and places it on the bureau_. + +LAURA. You seem to have come prepared. Did Elfie and you plan this all +out? + +WILL. Not planned--just hoped. I think you'd better go to some nice +hotel now. Later we can arrange. + +[_Sits on up-stage side of bed_. + +LAURA. Will, we'll always be frank. I said I was ready to go. It's up +to you--when and where. + +WILL. The hotel scheme is the best, but, Laura-- + +LAURA. Yes? + +WILL. You're quite sure this is in earnest. You don't want to change? +You've time enough now. + +LAURA. I've quite made up my mind. It's final. + +WILL. If you want to work, Burgess has a nice part for you. I'll +telephone and arrange if you say so. + +LAURA. Thanks. Say I'll see him in the morning. + +WILL. And, Laura, you know when we were in Denver, and-- + +LAURA. [_Rises hurriedly; crosses right_.] Please, please, don't speak +of it. + +WILL. I'm sorry, but I've got to. I told [_Rises, and crosses to +left_.] Madison [LAURA _turns her head_.]--pardon me, but I must do +this--that if this time ever came I'd have you write him the truth. +Before we go any further I'd like you to do that now. + +LAURA. Say good-bye? [_Turns to_ WILL. + +WILL. Just that. + +LAURA. I wouldn't know how to begin. It will hurt him awfully deeply. + +WILL. It'll be worse if you don't. He'll like you for telling him. It +would be honest, and that is what he expects. + +LAURA. Must I--now? + +WILL. I think you should. + +LAURA. [_Goes to table and sits down_.] How shall I begin, Will? + +WILL. [_Standing back of table_.] You mean you don't know what to say? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. Then I'll dictate. + +LAURA. I'll do just as you say. You're the one to tell me now. + +WILL. Address it the way you want to. [_She complies_.] I'm going to +be pretty brutal. In the long run I think that is best, don't you? + +LAURA. It's up to you. + +WILL. Ready? + +LAURA. Begin. + +WILL. [_Dictating_.] "All I have to say can be expressed in one word, +'good-bye.' I shall not tell you where I've gone, but remind you +of what Brockton told you the last time he saw you. He is here now +[_Pause_.], dictating this letter. What I am doing is voluntary--my +own suggestion. Don't grieve. Be happy and successful. I do not love +you"-- + +[_She puts pen down; looks at him_. + +LAURA. Will--please. + +WILL. It has got to go just that way--"I do not love you." Sign +it "Laura." [_She does it_.] Fold it, put it in an envelope--seal +it--address it. Now shall I mail it? + +LAURA. No. If you don't mind I'd sooner. It's a sort of a last--last +message. + +WILL. [_Crosses to armchair; gets coat, puts it on_.] All right. +You're a little upset now, and I'm going. We are all to dine at +Martin's to-night at seven-thirty. There'll be a party. Of course +you'll come. [_Gets hat and cane_. + +LAURA. I don't think I can. You see-- + +WILL. I know. I guess there's enough there [_Indicating money_.] for +your immediate needs. Later you can straighten things up. Shall I send +the car? + +LAURA. Yes, please. + +WILL. Good. It will be the first happy evening I've had in a long, +long time. You'll be ready? + +[_Approaches and bends over her as if to caress her_. + +LAURA. [_Shrinking away_.] Please don't. Remember we don't dine until +seven-thirty. + +WILL. All right. [_Exit_. + +_For a moment_ LAURA _sits silent, and then angrily rises, crosses +up to dresser, gets alcohol lamp, crosses to table with lamp, lights +same, and starts back to dresser. Knock at door_. + +LAURA. Come in. [ANNIE _enters, and stops_.] That you, Annie? + +ANNIE. Yassum. + +LAURA. Mrs. Farley wants her rent. There is some money. [_Tosses money +on to table_.] Take it to her. + +ANNIE _goes to the table, examines the roll of bills and is palpably +surprised_. + +ANNIE. Dey ain't nothin' heah, Miss Laura, but five great big one +hunderd dollah bills. + +LAURA. Take two. And look in that upper drawer. You'll find some pawn +tickets there. [ANNIE _complies_. + +ANNIE. Yassum. [_Aside_.] Dat's real money--dem's yellow-backs sure. + +LAURA. Take the two top ones and go get my lace gown and one of +the hats. The ticket is for a hundred and ten dollars. Keep ten for +yourself, and hurry. + +ANNIE. [_Aside_.] Ten for myself--I never see so much money. [_To_ +LAURA, _her astonishment nearly overcoming her_.] Yassum, Miss Laura, +yassum. [_She goes toward door, and then turns to_ LAURA.] Ah'm so +mighty glad yo' out all yo' trouble, Miss Laura. I says to Mis' Farley +now-- + +LAURA. [_Snapping her off_.] Don't--don't. Go do as I tell you and +mind your business. [ANNIE _turns sullenly and walks toward the door. +At that moment_ LAURA _sees the letter, which she has thrown on the +table_.] Wait a minute. I want you to mail a letter. [_By this time +her hair is half down, hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her waist +is open at the throat, collar off, and she has the appearance of a +woman's untidiness when she is at that particular stage of her toilet. +Hands letter to_ ANNIE, _but snatches it away as_ ANNIE _turns to +go. She glances at the letter long and wistfully, and her nerve fails +her_.] Never mind. + +ANNIE _exits. Slowly_ LAURA _puts the letter over the flame of the +alcohol lamp and it ignites. As it burns she holds it in her fingers, +and when half consumed throws it into waste-jar, sits on side of bed +watching letter burn, then lies down across bed on her elbows, her +chin in her hands, facing audience. As the last flicker is seen the +curtain slowly descends_. + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III. + + +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. + + + + +ACT IV. + + +SCENE. _The same scene as Act III. It is about two o'clock in the +afternoon._ + +AT RISE. _When the curtain rises, there are two big trunks and one +small one up stage. These are marked in the usual theatrical fashion. +There are grips packed, umbrellas, and the usual paraphernalia that +accompanies a woman when she is making a permanent departure from +her place of living. All the bric-à-brac, &c., has been removed +from dresser. On down-stage end of dresser is a small alligator +bag containing night-dress, toilet articles, and bunch of keys. +The dresser drawers are some of them half open, and old pieces of +tissue-paper and ribbons are hanging out. The writing-desk has had all +materials removed and is open, showing scraps of torn-up letters, and +in one pigeon-hole is a New York Central time-table; between desk and +bay-window is a lady's hat-trunk containing huge picture hat. It is +closed. Behind table is a suit-case with which_ ANNIE _is working when +curtain rises. Under desk are two old millinery boxes, around which +are scattered old tissue-paper, a pair of old slippers, a woman's +shabby hat, old ribbon, &c. In front of window at end of pianola is +thrown a lot of old empty boxes, such as are used for stocking and +shirtwaist boxes. The picture-frame and basket of flowers have been +removed from pianola. The stool is on top of pianola, upside down. +There is an empty White Rock bottle, with glass turned over it, +standing between the legs of the stool. The big trunk is in front +of sofa, and packed, and it has a swing tray under which is packed a +fancy evening gown; the lid is down. On top of lid are an umbrella, +lady's travelling-coat, hat and gloves. On left end of sofa are a +large Gladstone bag, packed and fastened, a smaller trunk (thirty-four +inch), tray with lid. In tray are articles of wearing apparel. In +end of tray is revolver wrapped in tissue-paper. Trunk is closed, and +supposed to be locked. Tossed across left arm of armchair are couple +of violet cords. Down stage centre is a large piece of wide tan +ribbon. The room has the general appearance of having been stripped of +all personal belongings. There are old magazines and tissue-paper +all over the place. A bearskin rug is thrown up against table in low +window, the furniture is all on stage as used in Act III. At rise_ +LAURA _is sitting on trunk with clock in hand._ ANNIE _is on floor +behind table, fastening suit-case._ LAURA _is pale and perturbed._ + +ANNIE. Ain't yuh goin' to let me come to yuh at all, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. I don't know yet, Annie. I don't even know what the place is +like that we're going to. Mr. Madison hasn't said much. There hasn't +been time. + +ANNIE. Why, Ah've done ma best for yuh, Miss Laura, yes, Ah have. Ah +jest been with yuh ev'ry moment of ma time, an' [_Places suit-case on +table; crosses to centre._] Ah worked for yuh an' Ah loved yuh, an' Ah +doan' wan' to be left 'ere all alone in dis town 'ere New York. [LAURA +_turns to door;_ ANNIE _stoops, grabs up ribbon, hides it behind her +back._] Ah ain't the kind of cullud lady knows many people. Can't yuh +take me along wid yuh, Miss Laura?--yuh all been so good to me. + +LAURA. Why, I told you to [_Crosses to door, looks out, returns +disappointed._] stay here and get your things together [ANNIE _hides +ribbon in front of her waist._], and then Mr. Brockton will probably +want you to do something. Later, I think he'll have you pack up, just +as soon as he finds I'm gone. I've got the address that you gave me. +I'll let you know if you can come on. + +ANNIE. [_Suddenly._] Ain't yuh goin' to give me anything at all jes' +to remembuh yuh by? Ah've been so honest-- + +LAURA. Honest? + +ANNIE. Honest, Ah have. + +LAURA. You've been about as honest as most coloured [_Crosses to +table; gets suit-case; crosses to sofa end puts suit-case on it._] +girls are who work for women in the position that I am in. You haven't +stolen enough to make me discharge you, but I've seen what you've +taken. [_Sits on end of sofa facing left._ + +ANNIE. Now, Miss Laura. + +LAURA. Don't try to fool me. What you've got you're welcome to, but +for heaven's sake don't prate around here about loyalty and honesty. +I'm sick of it. + +ANNIE. Ain't yuh goin' to give me no recommendation? + +LAURA. [_Impatiently looking around the room._] What good would my +recommendation do? You can always go and get another position with +people who've lived the way I've lived, and my recommendation to the +other kind wouldn't amount to much. + +ANNIE. [_Sits on trunk._] Ah can just see whah Ah'm goin',--back to +dat boa'din'-house in 38th Street fo' me. [_Crying._ + +LAURA. Now shut your noise. I don't want to hear any more. I've given +you twenty-five dollars for a present. I think that's enough. + +[ANNIE _assumes a most aggrieved appearance._ + +ANNIE. Ah know, but twenty-five dollars ain't a home, and I'm [_Rises, +crosses to rubbish heap, picks up old slippers and hat, puts hat on +head as she goes out, looks into pier-glass._] losin' my home. Dat's +jest my luck--every time I save enough money to buy my weddin' clothes +to get married I lose my job. + +[_Exit._ + +LAURA. I wonder where John is. We'll never be able to make that train. +[_She crosses to window, then to desk, takes out time-table, crosses +to armchair and spreads time-table on back, studies it, crosses +impatiently to trunk, and sits nervously kicking her feet. After a few +seconds' pause the bell rings. She jumps up excitedly._] That must be +he,--Annie--go quick. [ANNIE _crosses and opens the door in the usual +manner._ + +JIM'S VOICE. [_Outside._] Is Miss Murdock in? + +ANNIE. Yassuh, she's in. + +LAURA _is up stage and turns to receive visitor._ JIM _enters. He is +nicely dressed in black and has an appearance of prosperity about him, +but in other respects he retains the old drollness of enunciation +and manner. He crosses to_ LAURA _in a cordial way and holds out his +hand._ ANNIE _crosses, after closing the door, and exits through the +portières into the sleeping-apartment._ + +JIM. How-dy-do, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. Jim Western, I'm mighty glad to see you. + +JIM. Looks like as if you were going to move? + +LAURA. Yes, I am going to move, and a long ways, too. How well you're +looking,--as fit as a fiddle. + +JIM. Yes; I am feelin' fine. Where yer goin'? Troupin'? + +LAURA. No, indeed. + +JIM. [_Surveying the baggage._] Thought not. What's comin' off now? +[_Takes off coat, puts coat and hat on trunk._ + +LAURA. [_Very simply._] I'm going to be married this afternoon. + +JIM. Married? + +LAURA. And then I'm going West. + +JIM. [_Leaving the trunk, walking toward her and holding out his +hands._] Now I'm just glad to hear that. Ye know when I heard how--how +things was breakin' for ye--well, I ain't knockin' or anythin' like +that, but me and the missis have talked ye over a lot. I never did +think this feller was goin' to do the right thing by yer. Brockton +never looked to me like a fellow would marry anybody, but now that +he's goin' through just to make you a nice, respectable wife, I guess +everything must have happened for the best. [LAURA _averts her eyes. +Both sit on trunk,_ JIM _left of_ LAURA.] Y' see I wanted to thank you +for what you did a couple of weeks ago. Burgess wrote me a letter and +told me I could go ahead of one of his big shows if I wanted to come +back, and offering me considerable money. He mentioned your name, Miss +Laura, and I talked it over with the missis, and--well, I can tell ye +now when I couldn't if ye weren't to be hooked up--we decided that I +wouldn't take that job, comin' as it did from you [_Slowly._] and the +way I knew it was framed up. + +LAURA. Why not? + +JIM. [_Embarrassed._] Well, ye see, there are three kids and they're +all growing up, all of them in school, and the missis, she's just +about forgot show business and she's playing a star part in the +kitchen, juggling dishes and doing flip-flaps with pancakes; and we +figgered that as we'd always gone along kinder clean-like, it wouldn't +be good for the kids to take a job comin' from Brockton because +you--you--well--you-- + +LAURA. I know. [_Rises; sits on left arm of chair._] You thought it +wasn't decent. Is that it? + +JIM. Oh, not exactly, only--well, you see I'm gettin' along pretty +[_Rises; crosses to_ LAURA.] good now. I got a little one-night-stand +theatre out in Ohio--manager of it, too. The town is called +Gallipolis. [_With a smile._ + +LAURA. Gallipolis? + +JIM. Oh, that ain't a disease. It is the name of a town. Maybe you +don't know much about Gallipolis, or where it is. + +LAURA. No. + +JIM. Well, it looks just like it sounds. We got a little house, and +the old lady is happy, and I feel so good that I can even stand her +cookin'. Of course we ain't makin' much money, but I guess I'm gettin' +a little old-fashioned around theatres anyway. The fellows from +newspapers and colleges have got it on me. Last time I asked a man for +a job he asked me what I knew about the Greek drama, and when I told +him I didn't know the Greeks had a theatre in New York he slipped me +a laugh and told me to come in again on some rainy Tuesday. Then +Gallipolis showed on the map, and I beat it for the West. [JIM +_notices by this time the pain he has caused_ LAURA, _and is +embarrassed._] Sorry if I hurt ye--didn't mean to; and now that yer +goin' to be Mrs. Brockton, well, I take back all I said, and, while +I don't think I want to change my position, I wouldn't turn it down +for--for that other reason, that's all. + +LAURA. [_With a tone of defiance in her voice._] But, Mr. Weston, I'm +not going to be Mrs. Brockton. + +JIM. No? [_Crosses left a little._ + +LAURA. No. + +JIM. Oh--oh-- + +LAURA. I'm going to marry another man, and a good man. + +JIM. The hell you are! + +[LAURA _rises and puts hand on_ JIM'S _shoulder._ + +LAURA. And it's going to be altogether different. I know what you +meant when you said about the missis and the kids, and that's what I +want--just a little home, just a little peace, just a little comfort, +and--and the man has come who's going to give it to me. You don't want +me to say any more, do you? + +[_Crosses to door, opens it, and looks out; closes it and crosses to_ +JIM. + +JIM. [_Emphatically, and with a tone of hearty approval._] No, I +don't, and now I'm just going to put my mit out and shake yours and +be real glad. I want to tell ye it's the only way to go along. I +ain't never been a rival to Rockefeller, nor I ain't never made Morgan +jealous, but since the day my old woman took her make-up off for the +last time, and walked out of that stage-door to give me a little help +and bring my kids into the world, I knew that was the way to go along; +and if you're goin' to take that road, by Jiminy, I'm glad of it, for +you sure do deserve it. I wish yer luck. + +LAURA. Thank you. + +JIM. I'm mighty glad you side-stepped Brockton. You're young [LAURA +_sits on trunk._], and you're pretty, and you're sweet, and if you've +got the right kind of a feller there ain't no reason on earth why you +shouldn't jest forgit the whole business and see nothin' but laughs +and a good time comin' to you, and the sun sort o' shinin' every +twenty-four hours in the day. You know the missis feels just as if she +knew you, after I told her about them hard times we had at Farley's +boarding-house, so I feel that it's paid me to come to New York +[_Picks up pin; puts it in lapel of coat._] even if I didn't book +anything but "East Lynne" and "Uncle Tom's Cabin." [_Goes over to +her._] Now I'm goin'. Don't forget Gallipolis's [LAURA _helps him on +with his coat._] the name, and sometimes the mail does get there. I'd +be awful glad if you wrote the missis a little note tellin' us how +you're gettin' along, and if you ever have to ride on the Kanawha and +Michigan, just look out of the window when the train passes our town, +because that is about the best you'll get. + +LAURA. Why? + +JIM. They only stop there on signal. And make up your mind that the +Weston family is with you forty ways from the Jack day and night. +Good-bye, and God bless you. + +LAURA. Good-bye, Jim. I'm so glad to know you're happy, for it is good +to be happy. [_Kisses him._ + +JIM. You bet. [_Moves toward the door. She follows him after they have +shaken hands._] Never mind, I can get out all right. [_Opens the door, +and at the door:_] Good-bye again. + +LAURA. [_Very softly._] Good-bye. [_Exit_ JIM _and closes the door. +She stands motionless until she hears the outer door slam._] I wonder +why he doesn't come. [_She goes up and looks out of the window and +turns down stage, crosses right, counting trunks; as she counts +suitcase on table, bell rings; she crosses hurriedly to trunk +centre._] Hurry, Annie, and see who that is. + +ANNIE _enters, crosses, opens door, exits, and opens the outer door._ + +ANNIE'S VOICE. She's waitin' for yer, Mr. Madison. + +LAURA _hurries down to the centre of stage._ JOHN _enters, hat in +hand and his overcoat on arm, followed by_ ANNIE. _He stops just as +he enters and looks at_ LAURA _long and searchingly._ LAURA +_instinctively feels that something has happened. She shudders and +remains firm._ ANNIE _crosses and exits. Closes doors._ + +LAURA. [_With a little effort._ JOHN _places hat and coat on trunk._] +Aren't you a little late, dear? + +JOHN. I--I was detained down town a few minutes. I think that we can +carry out our plan all right. + +LAURA. [_After a pause._] Has anything happened? + +JOHN. I've made all the arrangements. The men will be here in a few +minutes for your trunks. [_Crosses to coat; feels in pocket._] I've +got the railroad tickets and everything else, but-- + +LAURA. But what, John? + +_He goes over to her. She intuitively understands that she is about +to go through an ordeal. She seems to feel that_ JOHN _has become +acquainted with something which might interfere with their plan. He +looks at her long and searchingly. Evidently he too is much wrought +up, but when he speaks to her it is with a calm dignity and force +which show the character of the man._ + +JOHN. Laura. + +LAURA. Yes? + +JOHN. You know when I went down town I said I was going to call on two +or three of my friends in Park Row. + +LAURA. I know. + +JOHN. I told them who I was going to marry. + +LAURA. Well? + +JOHN. They said something about you and Brockton, and I found that +they'd said too much, but not quite enough. + +LAURA. What did they say? + +JOHN. Just that--too much and not quite enough. There's a minister +waiting for us over on Madison Avenue. You see, then you'll be my +wife. That's pretty serious business, and all I want now from you is +the truth. + +LAURA. Well? + +JOHN. Just tell me that what they said was just an echo of the +past--that it came from what had been going on before that wonderful +day out in Colorado. Tell me that you've been on the level. I don't +want their word, Laura--I just want yours. + +LAURA _summons all her courage, looks up into his loving eyes, shrinks +a moment before his anxious face, and speaks as simply as she can._ + +LAURA. Yes, John, I have been on the level. + +JOHN. [_Very tenderly._] I knew that, dear, I knew it. [_He takes her +in his arms and kisses her. She clings to him in pitiful helplessness. +His manner is changed to one of almost boyish happiness._] Well, now +everything's all ready, let's get on the job. We haven't a great deal +of time. Get your duds on. + +LAURA. When do we go? + +JOHN. Right away. The great idea is to get away. + +LAURA. All right. + +[_Gets hat off trunk, crosses to bureau, puts it on._ + +JOHN. Laura, you've got trunks enough, haven't you? One might think +we're moving a whole colony. [_Turns to her with a smile._] And, by +the way, to me you are a whole colony--anyway you're the only one I +ever wanted to settle with. + +LAURA. That's good. [_Takes bag off bureau, crosses to trunk, gets +purse, coat, umbrella, as if ready to leave. She hurriedly gathers her +things together, adjusting her hat and the like, and almost to herself +in a low tone:_] I'm so excited. [_Continues preparations._] Come on. + +_In the meantime_ JOHN _crosses by to get his hat and coat, and while +the preparations are about to be completed and_ LAURA _has said "Come +on," she is transfixed by the noise of the slamming of the outer door. +She stops as if she had been tremendously shocked, and a moment later +the rattling of a latch-key in the inner door also stops_ JOHN _from +going any further. His coat is half on._ LAURA _looks toward the door, +paralyzed with fright, and_ JOHN _looks at her with an expression of +great apprehension. Slowly the door opens, and_ BROCKTON _enters with +coat and hat on. As he turns to close the door after him,_ LAURA, +_pitifully and terribly afraid, retreats two or three steps, and +lays coat, bag, purse and umbrella down in armchair, standing dazed._ +BROCKTON _enters leisurely, paying no attention to anyone, while_ JOHN +_becomes as rigid as a statue, and follows with his eyes every move_ +BROCKTON _makes. The latter walks leisurely across the stage, and +afterwards into the rooms through the portières. There is a wait of +a second. No one moves._ BROCKTON _finally reënters with coat and hat +off, and throws back the portières in such a manner as to reveal the +bed and his intimate familiarity with the outer room. He goes down +stage in the same leisurely manner and sits in a chair opposite_ JOHN, +_crossing his legs._ + +WILL. Hello, Madison, when did you get in? + +_Slowly_ JOHN _seems to recover himself. His right hand starts up +toward the lapel of his coat and slowly he pulls his Colt revolver +from the holster under his armpit. There is a deadly determination and +deliberation in every movement that he makes._ WILL _jumps to his feet +and looks at him. The revolver is uplifted in the air, as a Western +man handles a gun, so that when it is snapped down with a jerk the +deadly shot can be fired._ LAURA _is terror-stricken, but before +the shot is fired she takes a step forward and extends one hand in a +gesture of entreaty._ + +LAURA. [_In a husky voice that is almost a whisper._] Don't shoot. + +_The gun remains uplifted for a moment._ JOHN _is evidently wavering +in his determination to kill. Slowly his whole frame relaxes. He +lowers the pistol in his hand in a manner which clearly indicates that +he is not going to shoot. He quietly puts it back in the holster, and_ +WILL _is obviously relieved, although he stood his ground like a man._ + +JOHN. [_Slowly._] Thank you. You said that just in time. + +[_A pause._ + +WILL. [_Recovering and in a light tone._] Well, you see, Madison, that +what I said when I was-- + +JOHN. [_Threateningly._] Look out, Brockton, I don't want to talk to +you. [_The men confront._ + +WILL. All right. + +JOHN. [_To_ LAURA.] Now get that man out of here. + +LAURA. John, I-- + +JOHN. Get him out. Get him out before I lose my temper or they'll take +him out without his help. + +LAURA. [_To_ WILL.] Go--go. Please go. + +WILL. [_Deliberately._] If that's the way you want it, I'm willing. + +_Exit_ WILL _into the sleeping-apartment._ LAURA _and_ JOHN _stand +facing each other. He enters again with hat and coat on, and passes +over toward the door._ LAURA _and_ JOHN _do not move. When he gets +just a little to the left of the centre of the stage_ LAURA _steps +forward and stops him with her speech._ + +LAURA. Now before you go, and to you both, I want to tell you how I've +learned to despise him. John, I know you don't believe me, but it's +true--it's true. I don't love anyone in the world but just you. I +know you don't think that it can be explained--maybe there isn't any +explanation. I couldn't help it. I was so poor, and I had to live, and +he wouldn't let me work, and he's only let me live one way, and I +was hungry. Do you know what that means? I was hungry and didn't have +clothes to keep me warm, and I tried, oh, John, I tried so hard to do +the other thing,--the right thing,--but I couldn't. + +JOHN. I--I know I couldn't help much, and perhaps I could have +forgiven you if you hadn't lied to me. That's what hurt. [_Turning to_ +WILL _and approaching until he can look him in the eyes._] I expected +you to lie, you're that kind of a man. You left me with a shake of the +hand, and you gave me your word, and you didn't keep it. Why should +you keep it? Why should anything make any difference with you? Why, +you pup, you've no right to live in the same world with decent folks. +Now you make yourself scarce, or take it from me, I'll just kill you, +that's all. + +WILL. I'll leave, Madison, but I'm not going to let you think that I +didn't do the right thing with you. She came to me voluntarily. She +said she wanted to come back. I told you that, when I was in Colorado, +and you didn't believe me, and I told you that when she did this sort +of thing I'd let you know. I dictated a letter to her to send to you, +and I left it sealed and stamped in her hands to mail. She didn't do +it. If there's been a lie, she told it. I didn't. + +JOHN _turns to her. She hangs her head and averts her eyes in a mute +acknowledgment of guilt. The revelation hits_ JOHN _so hard that +he sinks on the trunk centre, his head fallen to his breast. He is +utterly limp and whipped. There is a moment's silence._ + +WILL. [_Crosses to_ JOHN.] You see! Why, my boy, whatever you think +of me or the life I lead, I wouldn't have had this come to you for +anything in the world. [JOHN _makes an impatient gesture._] No, I +wouldn't. My women don't mean a whole lot to me because I don't take +them seriously. I wish I had the faith and the youth to feel the way +you do. You're all in and broken up, but I wish I could be broken +up just once. I did what I thought was best for you because I didn't +think she could ever go through the way you wanted her to. I'm sorry +it's all turned out bad. [_Pause._] Good-bye. + +_He looks at_ JOHN _for a moment as if he was going to speak._ JOHN +_remains motionless. The blow has hit him harder than he thought._ +WILL _exits. The first door closes. In a moment the second door is +slammed._ JOHN _and_ LAURA _look at each other for a moment. He gives +her no chance to speak. The hurt in his heart and his accusation are +shown by his broken manner. A great grief has come into his life and +he doesn't quite understand it. He seems to be feeling around for +something to say, some way to get out. His head turns toward the door. +With a pitiful gesture of the hand he looks at her in all his sorrow._ + +JOHN. Well? [_Rises._ + +LAURA. John, I--[_Takes off hat and places it on table._ + +JOHN. I'd be careful what I said. Don't try to make excuses. I +understand. + +LAURA. It's not excuses. I want to tell you what's in my heart, but I +can't; it won't speak, and you don't believe my voice. + +JOHN. You'd better leave it unsaid. + +LAURA. But I must tell. I can't let you go like this. [_She goes over +to him and makes a weak attempt to put her arms around him. He takes +her arms and puts them back to her side._] I love you. I--how can I +tell you--but I do, I do, and you won't believe me. + +_He remains silent for a moment and then takes her by the hand, leads +her over to the chair and places her in it._ + +JOHN. I think you do as far as you are able; but, Laura, I guess you +don't know what a decent sentiment is. [_He gathers himself together. +His tone is very gentle and very firm, but it carries a tremendous +conviction, even with his grief ringing through his speech._] Laura, +you're not immoral, you're just unmoral, kind o' all out of shape, and +I'm afraid there isn't a particle of hope for you. When we met neither +of us had any reason to be proud, but I thought that you thought that +it was the chance of salvation which sometimes comes to a man and a +woman fixed as we were then. What had been had been. It was all in the +great to-be for us, and now, how you've kept your word! What little +that promise meant, when I thought you handed me a new lease of life! + +LAURA. [_In a voice that is changed and metallic. She is literally +being nailed to the cross._] You're killing me--killing me. + +JOHN. Don't make such a mistake. In a month you'll recover. There will +be days when you will think of me, just for a moment, and then it +will be all over. With you it is the easy way, and it always will be. +You'll go on and on until you're finally left a wreck, just the type +of the common woman. And you'll sink until you're down to the very +bed-rock of depravity. I pity you. + +LAURA. [_Still in the same metallic tone of voice._] You'll never +leave me to do that. I'll kill myself. + +JOHN. Perhaps that's the only thing left for you to do, but you'll not +do it. It's easier to live. [_Crosses, gets hat and coat, turns and +looks at her,_ LAURA _rising at the same time._ + +LAURA. John, I said I'd kill myself, and I mean it. If it's the only +thing to do, I'll do it, and I'll do it before your very eyes. [_She +crosses quickly, gets keys out of satchel, opens trunk, takes gun out +of trunk, stands facing_ JOHN--_waiting a moment._] You understand +that when your hand touches that door I'm going to shoot myself. I +will, so help me God! + +JOHN. [_Stops and looks at her._] Kill yourself? [_Pause._] Before me? +[_Pause._] All right. [_Raising his voice._] Annie, Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Enters._] Yes, sir. + +JOHN. [LAURA _looks at_ JOHN _in bewilderment._] You see your mistress +there has a pistol in her hand? + +ANNIE. [_Frightened._] Yassuh-- + +JOHN. She wants to kill herself. I just called you to witness that the +act is entirely voluntary on her part. Now, Laura, go ahead. + +LAURA. [_Nearly collapsing, drops the pistol to the floor._] John, +I--can't-- + +JOHN. Annie, she's evidently changed her mind. You may go. + +ANNIE. But, Miss Laura, Ah-- + +JOHN. [_Peremptorily._] You may go. [_Bewildered and not +understanding,_ ANNIE _exits through the portières. In that same +gentle tone, but carrying with it an almost frigid conviction._] You +didn't have the nerve. I knew you wouldn't. For a moment you thought +the only decent thing for you to do was to die, and yet you couldn't +go through. I am sorry for you,--more sorry than I can tell. [_He +takes a step towards the door._ + +LAURA. You're going--you're going? + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. And--and--you never thought that perhaps I'm frail, and weak, +and a woman, and that now, maybe, I need your strength, and you might +give it to me, and it might be better. I want to lean on you,--lean +on you, John. I know I need someone. Aren't you going to let me? Won't +you give me another chance? + +JOHN. I gave you your chance, Laura. + +LAURA. [_Throws arms around his neck._] Give me another. + +JOHN. But you leaned the wrong way. Good-bye. + +[_He pulls away and goes out, slamming both doors._ + +LAURA. [_Screaming._] John--John--I--[_She sits on trunk, weeping in +loud and tearful manner; rises in a dazed fashion, starts to cross, +sees gun, utters loud cry of mingled despair and anger, grabs up gun, +crossing to bureau, opens up-stage drawer, throws gun in, slams drawer +shut, calling:_] Annie! Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Appears through the portières._] Ain't yuh goin' away, Miss +Laura? + +LAURA. [_Suddenly arousing herself, and with a defiant voice._] No, +I'm not. I'm going to stay right here. [ANNIE _crosses and opens +trunk, takes out handsome dress, hangs it over back of armchair, +crosses up to hat-trunk, takes out hat._ LAURA _takes it from her, +crosses to trunk left, starts to unpack it._] Open these trunks, take +out those clothes, get me my prettiest dress. Hurry up. [_She goes +before the mirror._] Get my new hat, dress up my body and paint up my +face. It's all they've left of me. [_To herself._] They've taken my +soul away with them. + +ANNIE. [_In a happy voice._] Yassum, yassum. + +LAURA. [_Who is arranging her hair._] Doll me up, Annie. + +ANNIE. Yuh goin' out, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. Yes. I'm going to Rector's to make a hit, and to hell with the +rest! + +_At this moment the hurdy-gurdy in the street, presumably immediately +under her window, begins to play the tune of "Bon-Bon Buddie, My +Chocolate Drop." There is something in this ragtime melody which +is particularly and peculiarly suggestive of the low life, the +criminality and prostitution that constitute the night excitement of +that section of New York City known as the Tenderloin. The tune,--its +association,--is like spreading before_ LAURA'S _eyes a panorama of +the inevitable depravity that awaits her. She is torn from every ideal +that she so weakly endeavoured to grasp, and is thrown into the +mire and slime at the very moment when her emancipation seems to be +assured. The woman, with her flashy dress in one arm and her equally +exaggerated type of picture hat in the other, is nearly prostrated +by the tune and the realization of the future as it is terrifically +conveyed to her. The negress, in the happiness of serving_ LAURA +_in her questionable career, picks up the melody and hums it as she +unpacks the finery that has been put away in the trunk._ + +LAURA. [_With infinite grief, resignation, and hopelessness._] +O God--O my God. [_She turns and totters toward the bedroom. The +hurdy-gurdy continues, with the negress accompanying it._ + +A SLOW CURTAIN. + + +END OF THE PLAY. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Easiest Way, by Eugene Walter + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EASIEST WAY *** + +***** This file should be named 13050-8.txt or 13050-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/0/5/13050/ + +Produced by David Starner, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/13050-8.zip b/old/13050-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..94d23a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13050-8.zip diff --git a/old/13050.txt b/old/13050.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a72258a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13050.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5793 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Easiest Way, by Eugene Walter + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Easiest Way + Representative Plays by American Dramatists: 1856-1911 + +Author: Eugene Walter + +Release Date: July 29, 2004 [EBook #13050] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EASIEST WAY *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +THE EASIEST WAY + + + + +[Illustration: EUGENE WALTER] + + + + +EUGENE WALTER + +(Born, Cleveland, Ohio, November 27, 1874) + + +When questioned once regarding "The Easiest Way," Mr. Eugene Walter +said, "Incidentally, I do not think much of it. To my mind a good play +must have a tremendous uplift in thought and purpose. 'The Easiest +Way' has none of this. There is not a character in the play really +worth while, with the exception of the old agent. The rest, at best, +are not a particular adornment to society, and the strength of the +play lies in its true portrayal of the sordid type of life which it +expressed. As it is more or less purely photographic, I do not +think it should be given the credit of an inspiration--it is rather +devilishly clever, but a great work it certainly is not." + +Such was not the verdict of the first night audience, at the +Stuyvesant Theatre, New York, January 19, 1909. It was found to be +one of the most direct pieces of work the American stage had thus far +produced--disagreeably realistic, but purging--and that is the test of +an effective play--by the very poignancy of the tragic forces closing +in around the heroine. Though it is not as literary a piece of +dramatic expression as Pinero's "Iris," it is better in its effect; +because its relentlessness is due, not so predominantly to the moral +downgrade of the woman, as to the moral downgrade of a certain phase +of life which engulfs those nearest the centre of it. The play roused +a storm of comment; there were camps that took just the stand Mr. +Walter takes in the opening quotation. But the play is included in +this collection because its power, as a documentary report of a +phase of American stage life, is undeniable; because, as a piece of +workmanship, shorn of the usual devices called theatrical, it comes +down to the raw bone of the theme, and firmly progresses to its great +climax,--great in the sense of overpowering,--at the very fall of the +final curtain. + +Mr. Walter's various experiences in the theatre as an advance man, his +star reporting on the Detroit _News_, his struggles to gain a footing +in New York, contributed something to the bitter irony which runs as +a dark pattern through the texture of "The Easiest Way." He is one of +the many American dramatists who have come from the newspaper ranks, +having served on the Cleveland _Plain Dealer_ and _Press_, the New +York _Sun_ and _Globe_, the Cincinnati _Post_ and the Seattle _Star_. +Not many will disagree with the verdict that thus far he has not +excelled this play, though "Paid in Full" (February 25, 1908) +contains the same sting of modern life, which drives his characters to +situations dramatic and dire, making them sell their souls and their +peace of minds for the benefit of worldly ease and comfort. Note this +theme in "Fine Feathers" (January 7, 1913) and "Nancy Lee" (April 9, +1918). In this sense, his plays all possess a consistency which makes +no compromises. Arthur Ruhl, in his "Second Nights", refers to Walter +as of the "no quarter" school. He brings a certain manly subtlety to +bear on melodramatic subjects, as in "The Wolf" (April 18, 1908) and +"The Knife" (April 12, 1917); he seems to do as he pleases with his +treatment, as he did right at the start with his first successful +play. For, of "The Easiest Way" it may be said that, for the first +time in his managerial career, Mr. David Belasco agreed to accept +it with the condition that not a word of the manuscript should be +changed. + +It is interesting to note about Walter that, though he may now +repudiate it, "The Easiest Way" stands distinct in its class; perhaps +the dramatist has ripened more in technique--one immediately feels the +surety and vital grip of dramatic expertness in Walter, much more +so than in George Broadhurst, Bayard Veiller, or other American +dramatists of his class. But he has not surpassed "The Easiest Way" in +the burning intention with which it was written. + +As a dramatist, Walter adopts an interesting method; he tries out his +plays on the road, experimenting with various names, and re-casting +until ready for metropolitan production. His dramas have many +_aliases_, and it is a long case to prove an alibi; any student who +has attempted to settle dates will soon find that out. His military +play, written out of his experiences as a United States cavalryman in +the Spanish American War, was called "Boots and Saddles," after it +was given as "Sergeant James." "Fine Feathers," "The Knife," "The +Heritage," "Nancy Lee"--were all second or third choice as to name. + +In his advancement, Mr. Walter gives much credit to three American +managers--Kirke LaShelle, and the Selwyn brothers, Archie and Edgar. +It was the Selwyns who, during his various ventures in the "show +business," persuaded him to move to Shelter Island, and write "The +Undertow." It was in their house that "Paid in Full" was finished. Let +Mr. Walter continue the narrative: + + The circumstances under which "The Easiest Way" was written + are rather peculiar. When I was an advance-agent, ahead of + second-class companies, the need of money caused me to write a + one-act piece called "All the Way from Denver," which in time + I was able to dispose of. Later, after having written "Paid in + Full," I realized that in the play, "All the Way from Denver," + there was a situation or theme that might prove exceedingly + valuable in a four-act play. After discussing the + possibilities with Mr. Archie Selwyn, we concluded to write + it. In the meantime, the one-act piece had come into the + possession of Margaret Mayo, and through her, Mr. Edgar Selwyn + decided that the title should be "The Easiest Way" instead of + "All the Way from Denver." + + The play was then taken in its scenario form to Mr. C.B. + Dillingham, and discussed with him at length. This was prior + to the public presentation of "Paid in Full." I possessed + no particular reputation as a dramatic writer--in fact, the + Messrs. Selwyn--Archie and Edgar--were the only ones who took + me seriously, and thought me a possibility. Mr. Dillingham was + not particularly impressed with the piece, because he thought + it was much too broad in theme, and he did not like the idea + of slapping the managerial knuckles of the theatre. Further, + the obvious inference in "The Easiest Way," that _Laura_ was + kept out of work in order to be compelled to yield herself to + _Brockton_, was a point which did not appeal to him. However, + we had a working agreement with him, and later, Mr. Archie + Selwyn, in discussing the story of the play with Mr. David + Belasco, aroused his interest. The latter saw "Paid in Full" + and "The Wolf," and so he sent for me, with the result that + "The Easiest Way" was first produced in Hartford, Conn., on + December 31, 1908. Since its New York production, it has been + presented in nearly every country of the world. It has not + always met with commercial success, but it has always been + regarded as a play of representative importance. + +William Winter was one of the bitterest enemies of "The Easiest Way." +He placed it with "Zaza" and Brieux's "Three Daughters of M. Dupont." +As an opposite extreme view, we give the opinion of Mr. Walter Eaton, +written in 1909, concerning the play: "It places Mr. Walter as a +leader among our dramatists." In some respects, we may have surpassed +it since then, in imaginative ideality; but, as an example of +relentless realism, it still holds its own as a distinct contribution. +The text has been edited for private circulation, and it is this text +which is followed here. A few modifications, of a technical nature, +have been made in the stage directions; but even with these slight +changes, the directions are staccato, utilitarian in conciseness, +rather than literary in the Shaw sense. + + + + +DAVID BELASCO'S +STUYVESANT +THEATRE + +44th STREET +_near_ BROADWAY +_New York City_ + +Under the _sole_ +management of +DAVID BELASCO + +DAVID BELASCO +PRESENTS +FRANCES STARR +--IN-- +THE EASIEST WAY + +An American play concerning a peculiar phase of New York life. + +In Four Acts and Four Scenes. + +By EUGENE WALTER. + + +CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY + +JOHN MADISON EDWARD H. ROBINS + +WILLARD BROCKTON JOSEPH KILCOUR + +JIM WESTON WILLIAM SAMPSON + +LAURA MURDOCK FRANCES STARR + +ELFIE ST. CLAIR LAURA NELSON HALL + +ANNIE EMMA DUNN + +Program Continued on Second Page Following + +PROGRAM CONTINUED. + + * * * * * + +SYNOPSIS. + +ACT I.--Mrs. William's ranch house or country home, perched on +the side of the Ute Pass, near Colorado Springs, Colorado. +Time--Late in an August afternoon. + +ACT II.--Laura Murdock's furnished room, second story, back. +New York. +Time--Six months later. + +ACT III.--Laura Murdock's apartments in an expensive hotel. New +York. +Time--Two months later. In the morning. + +ACT IV.--The same at Act III. +Time--The same afternoon. + + * * * * * + +The play produced under the personal supervision of Mr. Belasco. + + * * * * * + +PROGRAM CONTINUED ON SECOND PAGE FOLLOWING. + + +PROGRAM CONTINUED. + +Stage Director William J. Dean +Stage Manager Langdon West + + * * * * * + +Stage decorations and accessories designed by Wilfred Buckland. + + * * * * * + +Scenes by Ernest Cross. + + * * * * * + + Scenery built by Charles J. Carson. + Electrical effects by Louis Harlman. +Gowns by Mollie O'Hara. Hats by Bendel. + + * * * * * + +The Pianola used is from the Aeolian Co., New York. + + + + +THE EASIEST WAY + +AN AMERICAN PLAY CONCERNING A + +PARTICULAR PHASE OF + +NEW YORK LIFE + +_IN FOUR ACTS AND FOUR SCENES_ + +By EUGENE WALTER + +1908 BY EUGENE WALTER + +[The Editor wishes to thank Mr. Eugene Walter for his courtesy in +granting permission to include "The Easiest Way" in the present +Collection. All its dramatic rights are fully secured, and proceedings +will immediately be taken against anyone attempting to infringe them.] + + + + +CHARACTERS. + +LAURA MURDOCK. +ELFIE ST. CLAIR. +ANNIE. +WILLARD BROCKTON. +JOHN MADISON. +JIM WESTON. + + + + +DESCRIPTION OF CHARACTERS. + + +LAURA MURDOCH, twenty-five years of age, is a type not uncommon in the +theatrical life of New York, and one which has grown in importance in +the profession since the business of giving public entertainments has +been so reduced to a commercial basis. + +At an early age she came from Australia to San Francisco. She +possessed a considerable beauty and an aptitude for theatrical +accomplishment which soon raised her to a position of more or less +importance in a local stock company playing in that city. A woman of +intense superficial emotions, her imagination was without any enduring +depths, but for the passing time she could place herself in an +attitude of great affection and devotion. Sensually, the woman had +marked characteristics, and, with the flattery that surrounded her, +she soon became a favourite in the select circles which made such +places as "The Poodle Dog" and "Zinkand's" famous. In general +dissipation, she was always careful not in any way to indulge in +excesses which would jeopardize her physical attractiveness, or for +one moment to diminish her sense of keen worldly calculation. + +In time she married. It was, of course, a failure. Her vacillating +nature was such that she could not be absolutely true to the man to +whom she had given her life, and, after several bitter experiences, +she had the horror of seeing him kill himself in front of her. There +was a momentary spasm of grief, a tidal wave of remorse, and then the +peculiar recuperation of spirits, beauty and attractiveness that +so marks this type of woman. She was deceived by other men in many +various ways, and finally came to that stage of life that is known in +theatrical circles as being "wised up." + +At nineteen, the attention of a prominent theatrical manager being +called to her, she took an important part in a New York production, +and immediately gained considerable reputation. The fact that, before +reaching the age of womanhood, she had had more escapades than most +women have in their entire lives was not generally known in New York, +nor was there a mark upon her face or a single coarse mannerism to +betray it. She was soft-voiced, very pretty, very girlish. Her keen +sense of worldly calculation led her to believe that in order to +progress in her theatrical career she must have some influence outside +of her art and dramatic accomplishment; so she attempted, with no +little success, to infatuate a hard-headed, blunt and supposedly +invincible theatrical manager, who, in his cold, stolid way, gave her +what love there was in him. This, however, not satisfying her, she +played two ends against the middle, and, finding a young man of wealth +and position who could give her, in his youth, the exuberance and +joy utterly apart from the character of the theatrical manager, she +adopted him, and for a while lived with him. Exhausting his money, she +cast him aside, always spending a certain part of the time with the +theatrical manager. The young man became crazed, and, at a restaurant, +tried to murder all of them. + +From that time up to the opening of the play, her career was a +succession of brilliant coups in gaining the confidence and love, +not to say the money, of men of all ages and all walks in life. Her +fascination was as undeniable as her insincerity of purpose. She +had never made an honest effort to be an honest woman, although she +imagined herself always persecuted, the victim of circumstances,--and +was always ready to excuse any viciousness of character which led her +into her peculiar difficulties. While acknowledged to be a mistress of +her business--that of acting--from a purely technical point of view, +her lack of sympathy, her abuse of her dramatic temperament in her +private affairs, had been such as to make it impossible for her +sincerely to impress audiences with real emotional power, and, +therefore, despite the influences which she always had at hand, she +remained a mediocre artist. + +At the time of the opening of our play, she has played a summer +engagement with a stock company in Denver, which has just ended. She +has met JOHN MADISON, a man of about twenty-seven years of age, whose +position is that of a dramatic critic on one of the local papers. +LAURA MURDOCH, with her usual wisdom, started to fascinate JOHN +MADISON, but has found that, for once in her life, she has met her +match. + +JOHN MADISON is good to look at, frank, virile, but a man of broad +experience, and not to be hoodwinked. For the first time LAURA MURDOCH +feels that the shoe is pinching the other foot, and, without any +possible indication of reciprocal affection, she has been slowly +falling desperately, madly, honestly and decently in love with him. +She has for the past two years been the special favourite and mistress +of WILLARD BROCKTON. The understanding is one of pure friendship. +He is a man who has a varied taste in the selection of his women; is +honest in a general way, and perfectly frank about his amours. He has +been most generous with LAURA MURDOCK, and his close relations with +several very prominent theatrical managers have made it possible for +him to secure her desirable engagements, generally in New York. With +all her past experiences, tragic and otherwise, LAURA MURDOCH has +found nothing equal to this sudden, this swiftly increasing, love for +the young Western man. At first she attempted to deceive him. Her baby +face, her masterful assumption of innocence and childlike devotion, +made no impression upon him. He has let her know in no uncertain way +that he knew her record from the day she stepped on American soil in +San Francisco to the time when she had come to Denver, but still he +liked her. + +JOHN MADISON is a peculiar type of the Western man. Up to the time of +his meeting LAURA, he had always been employed either in the mines +or on a newspaper west of the Mississippi River. He is one of those +itinerant reporters; to-day you might find him in Seattle, to-morrow +in Butte, the next week in Denver, and then possibly he would make +the circuit from Los Angeles to 'Frisco, and then all around again. +He drinks his whiskey straight, plays his faro fairly, and is not +particular about the women with whom he goes. He started life in +the Western country at an early age. His natural talents, both in +literature and in general adaptability to all conditions of life, +were early exhibited, but his _alma mater_ was the bar-room, and +the faculty of that college its bartenders and gamblers and general +habitues. + +He seldom has social engagements outside of certain disreputable +establishments, where a genial personality or an over-burdened +pocketbook gives _entree_, and the rules of conventionality have +never even been whispered. His love affairs, confined to this class +of women, have seldom lasted more than a week or ten days. His editors +know him as a brilliant genius, irresponsible, unreliable, but at +times inestimably valuable. He cares little for personal appearance +beyond a certain degree of neatness. He is quick on the trigger, and +in a time of over-heated argument can go some distance with his fists; +in fact, his whole career is best described as "happy-go-lucky." + +He realizes fully his ability to do almost anything fairly well, and +some things especially well, but he has never tried to accomplish +anything beyond the earning of a comfortable living. Twenty-five or +thirty dollars a week was all he needed. With that he could buy his +liquor, treat his women, sometimes play a little faro, sit up all +night and sleep all day, and in general lead the life of good-natured +vagabondage which has always pleased him and which he had chosen as a +career. + +The objection of safer and saner friends to this form of livelihood +was always met by him with a slap on the back and a laugh. "Don't you +worry about me, partner; if I'm going to hell I'm going there with +bells on," was always his rejoinder; and yet, when called upon to +cover some great big news story, or report some vital event, he +settled down to his work with a steely determination and a grim joy +that resulted in work which classified him as a genius. Any great +mental effort of this character, any unusual achievement along these +lines, would be immediately followed by a protracted debauch that +would upset him physically and mentally for weeks at a time, but he +always recovered and landed on his feet, and with the same laugh and +smile again went at his work. + +If there have been opportunities to meet decent women of good social +standing, he has always thrown them aside with the declaration that +they bore him to death, and there never had entered into his heart a +feeling or idea of real affection until he met LAURA. He fell for a +moment under the spell of her fascination, and then, with cold logic, +he analyzed her, and found out that, while outwardly she had +every sign of girlhood,--ingenuousness, sweetness of character and +possibility of affection,--spiritually and mentally she was nothing +more than a moral wreck. He observed keenly her efforts to win him and +her disappointment at her failure--not that she cared so much for him +personally, but that it hurt her vanity not to be successful with +this good-for-nothing, good-natured vagabond, when men of wealth and +position she made kneel at her feet. He observed her slowly-changing +point of view: how from a kittenish ingenuousness she became serious, +womanly, really sincere. He knew that he had awakened in her her first +decent affection, and he knew that she was awakening in him his first +desire to do things and be big and worth while. So together these +two began to drift toward a path of decent dealing, decent ambition, +decent thought, and decent love, until at last they both find +themselves, and acknowledge all the wickedness of what had been, and +plan for all the virtue and goodness of what is to be. It is at this +point that our first act begins. + +ELFIE ST. CLAIR is a type of a Tenderloin grafter in New York, who, +after all, has been more sinned against than sinning; who, having been +imposed upon, deceived, ill-treated and bulldozed by the type of men +who prey on women in New York, has turned the tables, and with her +charm and her beauty has gone out to make the same slaughter of the +other sex as she suffered with many of her sisters. + +She is a woman without a moral conscience, whose entire life is +dictated by a small mental operation. Coming to New York as a +beautiful girl, she entered the chorus. She became famous for her +beauty. On every hand were the stage-door vultures ready to give her +anything that a woman's heart could desire, from clothes to horses, +carriages, money and what-not; but, with a girl-like instinct, she +fell in love with a man connected with the company, and, during +all the time she might have profited and become a rich woman by the +attentions of these outsiders, she remained true to her love, until +finally her fame as the beauty of the city had waned. The years told +on her to a certain extent, and there were others coming, as young as +she had been and as good to look at; and, where the automobile of the +millionaire had once been waiting for her, she found that, through her +faithfulness to her lover, it was now there for some one else. Yet she +was content with her joys, until finally the man deliberately jilted +her and left her alone. + +What had gone of her beauty had been replaced by a keen knowledge of +human nature and of men, so she determined to give herself up entirely +to a life of gain. She knows just how much champagne should be +drunk without injuring one's health. She knows just what physical +necessities should be indulged in to preserve to the greatest degree +her remaining beauty. There is no trick of the hair-dresser, the +modiste, the manicurist, or any one of the legion of people who devote +their time to aiding the outward fascinations of women, which she does +not know. She knows exactly what perfumes to use, what stockings +to wear, how she should live, how far she should indulge in any +dissipation; and all this she has determined to devote to profit. She +knows that as an actress she has no future; that the time of a woman's +beauty is limited. Conscious that she has already lost the youthful +litheness of figure which had made her so fascinating in the past, +she has laid aside every sentiment, physical and spiritual, and +has determined to choose a man as her companion who has the biggest +bank-roll and the most liberal nature. His age, his station in life, +the fact whether she likes or dislikes him, do not enter into this +scheme at all. She figures that she has been made a fool of by men, +and that there is only one revenge,--the accumulation of a fortune to +make her independent of them once and for all. There are, of course, +certain likes and dislikes that she enjoys, and in a way she indulges +them. There are men whose company she cares for, but their association +is practically sexless and has come down to a point of mere good +fellowship. + +WILLARD BROCKTON, a New York broker, is an honest sensualist, and when +one says an honest sensualist, the meaning is--a man who has none +of the cad in his character, who takes advantage of no one, and who +allows no one to take advantage of him. He honestly detests any man +who takes advantage of a pure woman. He detests any man who deceives a +woman. He believes that there is only one way to go through life, +and that is to be frank with those with whom one deals. He is a +master-hand in stock manipulation, and in the questionable practises +of Wall Street he has realized that he has to play his cunning and +craft against the cunning and craft of others. He is not at all in +sympathy with this mode of living, but he thinks it is the only +method by which he can succeed in life. He measures success by the +accumulation of money, but he considers his business career as a thing +apart from his private existence. + +He does not associate, to any great extent, with what is known as +"society." He keeps in touch with it simply to maintain his business +position. There is always an inter-relationship among the rich in +business and private life, and he gives such entertainments as are +necessary to the members of New York's exclusive set, simply to make +certain his relative position with other successful Wall Street men. + +As far as women are concerned, the particular type of actress, such as +LAURA MURDOCH and ELFIE ST. CLAIR, appeals to him. He likes their good +fellowship. He loves to be with a gay party at night in a cafe. He +likes the rather looseness of living which does not quite reach the +disreputable. Behind all this, however, is a certain high sense of +honour. He detests and despises the average stage-door Johnny, and +he loathes the type of man who seeks to take young girls out of +theatrical companies for their ruin. + +His women friends are as wise as himself. When they enter into an +agreement with him there is no deception. In the first place he wants +to like them; in the second place he wants them to like him; and +finally, he wants to fix the amount of their living expenses at +a definite figure, and have them stand by it. He wants them to +understand that he reserves the right, at any time, to withdraw his +support, or transfer it to some other woman, and he gives them the +same privilege. + +He is always ready to help anyone who is unfortunate, and he has +always hoped that some of these girls whom he knew would finally come +across the right man, marry and settle down; but he insists that such +an arrangement can be possible only by the honest admission on the +woman's part of what she has done and been, and by the thorough +understanding of all these things by the man involved. He is gruff in +his manner, determined in his purposes, honest in his point of view. +He is a brute, almost a savage, but he is a thoroughly good brute and +a pretty decent savage. + +At the time of the opening of this play, he and LAURA MURDOCK have +been friends for two years. He knows exactly what she is and what she +has been, and their relations are those of pals. She has finished her +season in Denver, and he has come out there to accompany her home. +He has always told her, whenever she felt it inconsistent with her +happiness to continue her relations with him, it is her privilege to +quit, and he has reserved the same condition. + +JIM WESTON, between forty-five and fifty years of age, is the type +of the semi-broken-down showman. In the evolution of the theatrical +business in America, the old circus and minstrel men have gradually +been pushed aside, while younger men, with more advanced methods, have +taken their place. The character is best realized by the way it is +drawn in the play. + +ANNIE. The only particular attention that should be called to the +character of the negress, ANNIE, who is the servant of LAURA, is the +fact that she must not in any way represent the traditional smiling +coloured girl or "mammy" of the South. She is the cunning, crafty, +heartless, surly, sullen Northern negress, who, to the number of +thousands, are servants of women of easy morals, and who infest a +district of New York in which white and black people of the lower +classes mingle indiscriminately, and which is one of the most criminal +sections of the city. The actress who plays this part must keep in +mind its innate and brutal selfishness. + + + + +SYNOPSIS. + + +ACT I. Mrs. Williams' Ranch House or Country Home, perched on the side +of Ute Pass, near Colorado Springs, Colorado. + +TIME. Late in an August afternoon. + + +ACT II. Laura Murdock's furnished Room, second story back, New York. + +TIME. Six months later. + + +ACT III. Laura Murdock's Apartments in an expensive Hotel. + +TIME. Two months later. In the morning. + + +ACT IV. Laura Murdock's Apartments. The same as Act III. + +TIME. The afternoon of the same day. + + + + +THE EASIEST WAY + +ACT I. + + +SCENE. _The scene is that of the summer country ranch house of_ MRS. +WILLIAMS, _a friend of_ LAURA MURDOCK'S, _and a prominent society +woman of Denver, perched on the side of Ute Pass, near Colorado +Springs. The house is one of unusual pretentiousness, and, to a person +not conversant with conditions as they exist in this part of Colorado, +the idea might be that such magnificence could not obtain in such +a locality. At the left of stage the house rises in the form of a +turret, built of rough stone of a brown hue, two stories high, and +projecting a quarter of the way out on the stage. The door leads to a +small elliptical terrace built of stone, with heavy benches of Greek +design, strewn cushions, while over the top of one part of this +terrace is suspended a canopy made from a Navajo blanket. The terrace +is supposed to extend almost to the right of stage, and here it stops. +The stage must be cut here so that the entrance of_ JOHN _can give the +illusion that he is coming up a steep declivity or a long flight of +stairs. There are chairs at right and left, and a small table at left. +There are trailing vines around the balustrade of the terrace, and +the whole setting must convey the idea of quiet wealth. Up stage is +supposed to be the part of the terrace overlooking the canon, a sheer +drop of two thousand feet, while over in the distance, as if across +the canon, one can see the rolling foot-hills and lofty peaks of the +Rockies, with Pike's Peak in the distance, snow-capped and colossal. +It is late in the afternoon, and, as the scene progresses, the quick +twilight of a canon, beautiful in its tints of purple and amber, +becomes later pitch black, and the curtain goes down on an absolutely +black stage. The cyclorama, or semi-cyclorama, must give the +perspective of greater distances, and be so painted that the various +tints of twilight may be shown_. + +AT RISE. LAURA MURDOCK _is seen leaning a bit over the balustrade of +the porch and shielding her eyes with her hand from the late afternoon +sun, as she seemingly looks up the Pass to the left, as if expecting +the approach of someone. Her gown is simple, girlish and attractive, +and made of summery, filmy stuff. Her hair is done up in the simplest +fashion, with a part in the centre, and there is about her every +indication of an effort to assume that girlishness of demeanour which +has been her greatest asset through life_. WILLARD BROCKTON _enters; +he is a man six feet or more in height, stocky in build, clean-shaven +and immaculately dressed. He is smoking a cigar, and upon +entering takes one step forward and looks over toward_ LAURA _in a +semi-meditative manner_. + +WILL. Blue? + +LAURA. No. + +WILL. What's up? + +LAURA. Nothing. + +WILL. A little preoccupied. + +LAURA. Perhaps. + +WILL. What's up that way? + +LAURA. Which way? + +WILL. The way you are looking. + +LAURA. The road from Manitou Springs. They call it the trail out here. + +WILL. I know that. You know I've done a lot of business west of the +Missouri. + +LAURA. [_With a half-sigh_.] No, I didn't know it. + +WILL. Oh, yes; south of here in the San Juan country. Spent a couple +of years there once. + +LAURA. [_Still without turning_.] That's interesting. + +WILL. It was then. I made some money there. It's always interesting +when you make money. Still-- + +LAURA. [_Still leaning in an absent-minded attitude_.] Still what? + +WILL. Can't make out why you have your eyes glued on that road. +Someone coming? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. One of Mrs. Williams' friends, eh? [_Will crosses, and sits on +seat_. + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. Yours too? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. Man? + +LAURA. Yes, a _real_ man. + +WILL. [_Catches the significance of this speech. He carelessly throws +the cigar over the balustrade. He comes down and leans on chair with +his back to_ LAURA. _She has not moved more than to place her left +hand on a cushion and lean her head rather wearily against it, looking +steadfastly up the Pass_.] A real man. By that you mean-- + +LAURA. Just that--a real man. + +WILL. Any difference from the many you have known? + +LAURA. Yes, from all I have known. + +WILL. So that is why you didn't come into Denver to meet me to-day, +but left word for me to come out here? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. I thought that I was pretty decent to take a dusty ride half-way +across the continent in order to keep you company on your way back to +New York, and welcome you to our home; but maybe I had the wrong idea. + +LAURA. Yes, I think you had the wrong idea. + +WILL. In love, eh? + +LAURA. Yes, just that,--in love. + +WILL. A new sensation. + +LAURA. No; the first conviction. + +WILL. You have had that idea before. Every woman's love is the real +one when it comes. [_Crosses up to_ LAURA.] Do you make a distinction +in this case, young lady? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. For instance, what? + +LAURA. This man is poor--absolutely broke. He hasn't even got a +[_Crosses to armchair, leans over and draws with parasol on ground_.] +good job. You know, Will, all the rest, including yourself, generally +had some material inducement. + +WILL. What's his business? [_Crosses to table and sits looking at +magazine_. + +LAURA. He's a newspaper man. + +WILL. H'm-m. Romance? + +LAURA. Yes, if you want to call it that,--romance. + +WILL. Do I know him? + +LAURA. How could you? You only came from New York to-day, and he has +never been there. + +_He regards her with a rather amused, indulgent, almost paternal +expression, in contrast to his big, bluff, physical personality, with +his iron-gray hair and his bulldog expression_. LAURA _looks +more girlish than ever. This is imperative in order to thoroughly +understand the character_. + +WILL. How old is he? + +LAURA. Twenty-seven. You're forty-five. + +WILL. No, forty-six. + +LAURA. Shall I tell you about him? Huh? + +[_Crosses to_ WILL, _placing parasol on seat_. + +WILL. That depends. + +LAURA. On what? + +WILL. Yourself. + +LAURA. In what way? + +WILL. If it will interfere in the least with the plans I have made for +you and for me. + +LAURA. And have you made any particular plans for me that have +anything particularly to do with you? + +WILL. Yes, I have given up the lease of our apartment on West End +Avenue, and I've got a house on Riverside Drive. Everything will be +quiet and decent, and it'll be more comfortable for you. There's a +stable near by, and your horses and car can be kept over there. You'll +be your own mistress, and besides I've fixed you up for a new part. + +LAURA. A new part! What kind of a part? + +WILL. One of Charlie Burgess's shows, translated from some French +fellow. It's been running over in Paris, Berlin, and Vienna, and all +those places, for a year or more, and appears to be an awful hit. It's +going to cost a lot of money. I told Charlie he could put me down +for a half interest, and I'd give all the money providing you got +an important role. Great part, I'm told. Kind of a cross between a +musical comedy and an opera. Looks as if it might stay in New York all +season. So that's the change of plan. How does it strike you? + +[LAURA _crosses to door, meditating; pauses in thought_. + +LAURA. I don't know. + +WILL. Feel like quitting? [_Turns to her._ + +LAURA. I can't tell. + +WILL. It's the newspaper man, eh? + +LAURA. That would be the only reason. + +WILL. You've been on the square with me this summer, haven't you? +[_Crosses to table_. + +LAURA. [_Turns, looks at_ WILL.] What do you mean by "on the square?" + +WILL. Don't evade. There's only one meaning when I say that, and you +know it. I'm pretty liberal. But you understand where I draw the line. +You've not jumped that, have you, Laura? + +LAURA. No, this has been such a wonderful summer, such a wonderfully +different summer. Can you understand what I mean by that when I say +"wonderfully different summer?" + +[_Crossing to WILL_. + +WILL. Well, he's twenty-seven and broke, and you're twenty-five and +pretty; and he evidently, being a newspaper man, has that peculiar +gift of gab that we call romantic expression. So I guess I'm not +blind, and you both think you've fallen in love. That it? + +LAURA. Yes, I think that's about it; only I don't agree to the "gift +of gab" and the "romantic" end of it. [_Crosses to table_.] He's a man +and I'm a woman, and we both have had our experiences. I don't think, +Will, that there can be much of that element of what some folks call +hallucination. + +[_Sits on chair; takes candy-box on lap; selects candy_. + +WILL. Then the Riverside Drive proposition and Burgess's show is off, +eh? + +LAURA. I didn't say that. + +WILL. And if you go back on the Overland Limited day after to-morrow, +you'd just as soon I'd go to-morrow of wait until the day after you +leave? [LAURA _places candy-box back on table_. + +LAURA. I didn't say that, either. + +WILL. What's the game? + +LAURA. I can't tell you now. + +WILL. Waiting for him to come? [_Crosses, sits on seat_. + +LAURA. Exactly. + +WILL. Think he is going to make a proposition, eh? + +LAURA. I know he is. + +WILL. Marriage? + +LAURA. Possibly. + +WILL. You've tried that once, and taken the wrong end. Are you going +to play the same game again? + +LAURA. Yes, but with a different card. + +[_Picks up magazine off table_. + +WILL. What's his name? + +LAURA. Madison--John Madison. + +[_Slowly turning pages of magazine_. + +WILL. And his job? + +LAURA. Reporter. + +WILL. What are you going to live on,--the extra editions? + +LAURA. No, we're young, there's plenty of time. I can work in the +meantime, and so can he; and then with his ability and my ability +it will only be a matter of a year or two when things will shape +themselves to make it possible. + +WILL. Sounds well--a year off. + +LAURA. If I thought you were going to make fun of me, Will, I +shouldn't have talked to you. + +[_Throws down magazine, crosses to door of house_. + +WILL. [_Crossing down in front of table_.] I don't want to make fun of +you, but you must realize that after two years it isn't an easy thing +to be dumped with so little ceremony. Maybe you have never given +me any credit for possessing the slightest feeling, but even I can +receive shocks from other sources than a break in the market. + +LAURA. [_Crosses to_ WILL.] It isn't easy for me to do this. You've +been awfully kind, awfully considerate, but when I went to you it was +just with the understanding that we were to be pals. You reserved the +right then to quit me whenever you felt like it, and you gave me the +same privilege. Now, if some girl came along who really captivated +you in the right way, and you wanted to marry, it would hurt me a +little,--maybe a lot,--but I should never forget that agreement +we made, a sort of two weeks' notice clause, like people have in +contracts. + +WILL. [_Is evidently very much moved. Walks up stage to right end of +seat, looks over the canon_. LAURA _looks after him_. WILL _has his +back to the audience. Long pause_.] I'm not hedging, Laura. If that's +the way you want it to be, I'll stand by just exactly what I said +[_Turns to_ LAURA.], but I'm fond of you, a damn sight fonder than I +thought I was, now that I find you slipping away; but if this young +fellow is on the square [LAURA _crosses to_ WILL, _taking his right +hand_.] and he has youth and ability, and you've been on the square +with him, why, all right. Your life hasn't had much in it to help you +get a diploma from any celestial college, and if you can start out +now and be a good girl, have a good husband, and maybe some day good +children [LAURA _sighs_.], why, I'm not going to stand in the way. +Only I don't want you to make any of those mistakes that you made +before. + +LAURA. I know, but somehow I feel that this time the real thing has +come, and with it the real man. I can't tell you, Will, how much +different it is, but everything I felt before seems so sort of +earthly--and somehow this love that I have for this man is so +different. It's made me want to be truthful and sincere and humble +for the first time in my life. The only other thing I ever had that I +cared the least bit about, now that I look back, was your friendship. +We have been good pals, haven't we? + +[_Puts arms about_ WILL. + +WILL. Yes, it's been a mighty good two years for me. I was always +proud to take you around, because I think you one of the prettiest +things in New York [LAURA _crosses and girlishly jumps into +armchair._], and that helps some, and you're always jolly, and you +never complained. You always spent a lot of money, but it was a +pleasure to see you spend it; and then you never offended me. Most +women offend men by coming around looking untidy and sort of unkempt, +but somehow you always knew the value of your beauty, and you always +dressed up. I always thought that maybe some day the fellow would come +along, grab you, and make you happy in a nice way, but I thought +that he'd have to have a lot of money. You know you've lived a rather +extravagant life for five years, Laura. It won't be an easy job to +come down to cases and suffer for the little dainty necessities you've +been used to. + +LAURA. I've thought all about that, and I think I understand. + +[_Facing audience; leaning elbows on lap._ + +WILL. You know if you were working without anybody's help, Laura, you +might have a hard time getting a position. As an actress you're only +fair. + +LAURA. You needn't remind me of that. That part of my life is my own. +[_Crosses up to seat._] I don't want you to start now and make it +harder for me to do the right thing. It isn't fair; it isn't square; +and it isn't right. You've got to let me go my own way. [_Crosses to_ +WILL; _puts right hand on his shoulder._] I'm sorry to leave you, in +a way, but I want you to know that if I go with John it changes the +spelling of the word comradeship into love, and mistress into wife. +Now please don't talk any more. [_Crosses to post; takes scarf off +chair._ + +WILL. Just a word. Is it settled? + +LAURA. [_Impatiently._] I said I didn't know. I would know +to-day--that's what I'm waiting for. Oh, I don't see why he doesn't +come. [WILL _turns up to seat looking over Pass._ + +WILL. [_Pointing up the Pass._] Is that the fellow coming up here? + +LAURA. [_Quickly running toward the balustrade of seat, saying as she +goes_:] Where? [_Kneels on seat_. + +WILL. [_Pointing_.] Up the road there. On that yellow horse. + +LAURA. [_Looking_.] Yes, that's John. [_She waves her handkerchief, +and putting one hand to her mouth cries_:] Hello! + +JOHN. [_Off stage with the effect as if he was on the road winding up +toward the house_.] Hello yourself! + +LAURA. [_Same effect_.] Hurry up, you're late. + +JOHN. [_Same effect, a little louder_.] Better late than never. + +LAURA. [_Same effect_.] Hurry up. + +JOHN. [_Little louder_.] Not with this horse. + +LAURA. [_To_ WILL, _with enthusiastic expression_.] Now, Will, does he +look like a yellow reporter? + +WILL. [_With a sort of sad smile_.] He _is_ a good-looking chap. + +LAURA. [_Looking down again at_ JOHN.] Oh, he's just simply more than +that. [_Turns quickly to_ WILL.] Where's Mrs. Williams? + +WILL. [_Motioning with thumb toward left side of ranch house_.] +Inside, I guess, up to her neck in bridge. + +LAURA. [_Goes hurriedly over to door_.] Mrs. Williams! Oh, Mrs. +Williams! + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Heard off stage_.] What is it, my dear? + +LAURA. Mr. Madison is coming up the path. + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Off stage_.] That's good. + +LAURA. Sha'n't you come and see him? + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Same_.] Lord, no! I'm six dollars and twenty cents +out now, and up against an awful streak of luck. + +LAURA. Shall I give him some tea? + +MRS. WILLIAMS. [_Same_.] Yes, do, dear; and tell him to cross his +fingers when he thinks of me. + +_In the meantime_ WILL _has leaned over the balustrade, evidently +surveying the young man, who is supposed to be coming up the, path, +with a great deal of interest. Underneath his stolid, businesslike +demeanour of squareness, there is undoubtedly within his heart a very +great affection for_ LAURA. _He realizes that during her whole career +he has been the only one who has influenced her absolutely. Since the +time they lived together, he has always dominated, and he has always +endeavoured to lead her along a path that meant the better things of a +Bohemian existence. His coming all the way from New York to Denver to +accompany_ LAURA _home was simply another example of his keen interest +in the woman, and he suddenly finds that she has drifted away from him +in a manner to which he could not in the least object, and that she +had been absolutely fair and square in her agreement with him._ WILL +_is a man who, while rough and rugged in many ways, possesses many of +the finer instincts of refinement, latent though they may be, and +his meeting with_ JOHN _ought, therefore, to show much significance, +because on his impressions of the young man depend the entire +justification of his attitude in the play._ + +LAURA. [_Turning toward_ WILL _and going to him, slipping her hand +involuntarily through his arm, and looking eagerly with him over the +balustrade in almost girlish enthusiasm._] Do you like him? + +WILL. [_Smiling_.] I don't know him. + +LAURA. Well, do you think you'll like him? + +WILL. Well, I hope I'll like him. + +LAURA. Well, if you hope you'll like him you ought to think you like +him. He'll turn the corner of that rock in just a minute and then you +can see him. Do you want to see him? + +WILL. [_Almost amused at her girlish manner._] Why, yes--do you? + +LAURA. Do I? Why, I haven't seen him since last night! There he is. +[_Waves her hand._] Hello, John! + +[_Gets candy-box, throws pieces of candy at_ JOHN. + +JOHN. [_His voice very close now_.] Hello, girlie! How's everything? + +LAURA. Fine! Do hurry. + +JOHN. Just make this horse for a minute. Hurry is not in his +dictionary. + +LAURA. I'm coming down to meet you. + +JOHN. All--right. + +LAURA. [_Turns quickly to_ WILL.] You don't care. You'll wait, won't +you? + +WILL. Surely. + +LAURA _hurriedly exits._ WILL _goes down centre of the stage. After +a short interval_ LAURA _comes in, more like a sixteen-year-old girl +than anything else, pulling_ JOHN _after her. He is a tall, finely +built type of Western manhood, a frank face, a quick, nervous energy, +a mind that works like lightning, a prepossessing smile, and a +personality that is wholly captivating. His clothes are a bit dusty +from the ride, but are not in the least pretentious, and his leggins +are of canvas and spurs of brass, such as are used in the Army. His +hat is off, and he is pulled on to the stage, more like a great +big boy than a man. His hair is a bit tumbled, and he shows every +indication of having had a rather long and hard ride_. + +LAURA. Hello, John! + +JOHN. Hello, girlie! + +_Then she suddenly recovers herself and realizes the position she +is in. Both men measure each other for a moment in silence, neither +flinching the least bit. The smile has faded from_ JOHN'S _face, and +the mouth droops into an expression of firm determination._ LAURA _for +a moment loses her ingenuousness. She is the least bit frightened at +finally placing the two men face to face, and in a voice that trembles +slightly from apprehension_: + +LAURA. Oh, I beg your pardon! Mr. Madison, this is Mr. Brockton, a +friend of mine from New York. You've often heard me speak of him; he +came out here to keep me company when I go home. + +JOHN. [_Comes forward, extends a hand, looking_ WILL _right in the +eye._] I am very glad to know you, Mr. Brockton. + +WILL. Thank you. + +JOHN. I've heard a great deal about you and your kindness to +Miss Murdock. Anything that you have done for her in a spirit of +friendliness I am sure all her friends must deeply appreciate, and I +count myself in as one. + +WILL. [_In an easy manner that rather disarms the antagonistic +attitude of_ JOHN.] Then we have a good deal in common, Mr. Madison, +for I also count Miss Murdock a friend, and when two friends of a +friend have the pleasure of meeting, I dare say that's a pretty good +foundation for them to become friends too. + +JOHN. Possibly. Whatever my opinion may have been of you, Mr. +Brockton, before you arrived, now I have seen you--and I'm a man who +forms his conclusions right off the bat--I don't mind telling you that +you've agreeably surprised me. That's just a first impression, but +they run kind o' strong with me. + +WILL. Well, young man, I size up a fellow in pretty short order, and +all things being equal, I think you'll do. + +LAURA. [_Radiantly._] Shall I get the tea? + +JOHN. Tea! + +LAURA. Yes, tea. You know it must be tea--nothing stronger. + +[_Crosses to door._ + +JOHN. [_Looking at_ WILL _rather comically._] How strong are you for +that tea, Mr. Brockton? + +WILL. I'll pass; it's your deal, Mr. Madison. + +JOHN. Mine! No, deal me out this hand. + +LAURA. I don't think you're at all pleasant, but I'll tell you one +thing--it's tea this deal or no game. + +[_Crosses up stage to seat, picks up magazine, turns pages._ + +WILL. No game then [_Crosses to door._], and I'm going to help Mrs. +Williams; maybe she's lost nearly seven dollars by this time, and I'm +an awful dub when it comes to bridge. [_Exit._ + +LAURA. [_Tossing magazine on to seat, crosses quickly to_ JOHN, +_throws her arms around his neck in the most loving manner._] John! + +_As the Act progresses the shadows cross the Pass, and golden light +streams across the lower hills and tops the snow-clad peaks. It +becomes darker and darker, the lights fade to beautiful opalescent +hues, until, when the curtain falls on the act, with_ JOHN _and_ WILL +_on the scene, it is pitch dark, a faint glow coming out of the door. +Nothing else can be seen but the glow of the ash on the end of +each man's cigar as he puffs it in silent meditation on their +conversation._ + +JOHN. Well, dear? + +LAURA. Are you going to be cross with me? + +JOHN. Why? + +LAURA. Because he came? + +JOHN. Brockton? + +LAURA. Yes. + +JOHN. You didn't know, did you? + +LAURA. Yes, I did. + +JOHN. That he was coming? + +LAURA. He wired me when he reached Kansas City. + +JOHN. Does he know? + +LAURA. About us? + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. I've told him. + +JOHN. When? + +LAURA. To-day. + +JOHN. Here? + +LAURA. Yes. + +JOHN. With what result? + +LAURA. I think it hurt him. + +JOHN. Naturally. + +LAURA. More than I had any idea it would. + +JOHN. I'm sorry. [_Sits in armchair_. + +LAURA. He cautioned me to be very careful and to be sure I knew my +way. + +JOHN. That was right. + +LAURA _gets a cushion in each hand off seat; crosses down to left of +armchair, throws one cushion on ground, then the other on top of +it, and kneels beside his chair. Piano in house playing a Chopin +Nocturne_. + +LAURA. John. + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. We've been very happy all summer. + +JOHN. Very. + +LAURA. [_Rises, sits on left arm of chair, her arm over back_.] And +this thing has gradually been growing on us? + +JOHN. That's true. + +LAURA. I didn't think that, when I came out here to Denver to play in +a little stock company, it was going to bring me all this happiness, +but it has, hasn't it? + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. [_Changing her position, sits on his lap, arms around his +neck_.] And now the season's over and there is nothing to keep me in +Colorado, and I've got to go back to New York to work. + +JOHN. I know; I've been awake all night thinking about it. + +LAURA. Well? + +JOHN. Well? + +LAURA. What are we going to do? + +JOHN. Why, you've got to go, I suppose. + +LAURA. Is it good-bye? + +JOHN. For a while, I suppose--it's good-bye. + +LAURA. What do you mean by a while? + +[LAURA _turns_ JOHN'S _face to her, looks at him searchingly_. + +JOHN. Until [_Piano plays crescendo, then softens down_.] I get money +enough together, and am making enough to support you, then come and +take you out of the show business and make you Mrs. Madison. + +LAURA _tightens her arm around his neck, her cheek goes close to his +own, and all the wealth of affection the woman is capable of at times +is shown. She seems more like a dainty little kitten purring close to +its master. Her whole thought and idea seem to be centred on the man +whom she professes to love._ + +LAURA. John, that is what I want above everything else. + +JOHN. But, Laura, we must come to some distinct understanding before +we start to make our plans. We're not children. + +LAURA. No, we're not. + +JOHN. Now in the first place [LAURA _rises, crosses to centre._] we'll +discuss you, and in the second place we'll discuss me. We'll keep +nothing from each other [LAURA _picks up cushions, places them on +seat._], and we'll start out on this campaign [LAURA _turns back to +centre, facing audience._] of decency and honour, fully understanding +its responsibilities, without a chance of a come-back on either side. + +LAURA. [_Becoming very serious._] You mean that we should tell each +other all about each other, so, no matter what's ever said about us by +other people, we'll know it first? + +JOHN. [_Rising._] That's precisely what I'm trying to get at. + +LAURA. Well, John, there are so many things I don't want to speak of +even to you. It isn't easy for a woman to go back and dig up a lot +of ugly memories and try to excuse them. [_Crosses to front of table, +picks up magazine, places it on table_. + +JOHN. I've known everything from the first; how you came to San +Francisco as a kid and got into the show business, and how you went +wrong, and then how you married, still a kid, and how your husband +didn't treat you exactly right, and then how, in a fit of drunkenness, +he came home and shot himself. [LAURA _buries her head in her hands, +making exclamations of horror._ JOHN _crosses to her as if sorry for +hurting her; touches her on shoulder._] But that's all past now, and +we can forget that. And I know how you were up against it after that, +how tough it was for you to get along. Then finally how you've lived, +and--and that you and this man Brockton have been--well--never mind. +I've known it all for months, and I've watched you. Now, Laura, the +habit of life is a hard thing to get away from. You've lived in this +way for a long time. If I ask you to be my wife you'll have to give it +up; you'll have to go back to New York and struggle on your own hook +until I get enough to come for you. I don't know how long that will +be, but it _will_ be. Do you love me enough to stick out for the right +thing? + +LAURA _crosses to him, puts her arms around him, kisses him once very +affectionately, looks at him very earnestly_. + +LAURA. Yes. I think this is my one great chance. I do love you and I +want to do just what you said. + +JOHN. I think you will. I'm going to make the same promise. Your life, +dear girl, has been an angel's compared with mine. I've drank whiskey, +played bank, and raised hell ever since the time I could develop +a thirst; and ever since I've been able to earn my own living I've +abused every natural gift God gave me. The women I've associated with +aren't good enough to touch the hem of your skirt, but they liked +me, and [JOHN _crosses to armchair, turns up stage, then faces her_.] +well--I must have liked them. My life hasn't been exactly loose, it's +been all in pieces. I've never done anything dishonest. I've always +gone wrong just for the fun of it, until I met you. [_Crosses to +her, takes her in his arms_.] Somehow then I began to feel that I was +making an awful waste of myself. + +LAURA. John! + +JOHN. Some lovers place a woman on a pedestal and say, "She never has +made a mistake." [_Taking her by each arm he playfully shakes her_.] +Well, we don't need any pedestals. I just know you never will make a +mistake. + +LAURA. [_Kissing him_.] John, I'll never make you take those words +back. [_Arms around his neck_. + +JOHN. That goes double. You're going to cut out the cabs and cafes, +and I'm going to cut out the whiskey and all-night sessions [LAURA +_releases him; he backs slightly away_.]; and you're going to be +somebody and I'm going to be somebody, and if my hunch is worth the +powder to blow it up, we're going to show folks things they never +thought were in us. Come on now, kiss me. + +_She kisses him; tears are in her eyes. He looks into her face with a +quaint smile_. + +JOHN. You're on, ain't you, dear? + +LAURA. Yes, I'm on. + +JOHN. Then [_Points toward door with his left arm over her shoulder_.] +call him. + +LAURA. Brockton? + +JOHN. Yes, and tell him you go back to New York without any travelling +companion this season. + +LAURA. Now? + +JOHN. Sure. + +LAURA. You want to hear me tell him? + +JOHN. [_With a smile_.] We're partners, aren't we? I ought to be in on +any important transaction like that, but it's just as you say. + +LAURA. I think it would be right you should. I'll call him now. + +JOHN. All right. [_Crossing to stairway_. LAURA _crosses to door; +twilight is becoming very much more pronounced_. + +LAURA. [_At door_.] Mr. Brockton! Oh, Mr. Brockton! + +WILL. [_Off stage_.] Yes. + +LAURA. Can you spare a moment to come out here? + +WILL. Just a moment. + +LAURA. You must come now. + +WILL. All right. [_She waits for him and after a reasonable interval +he appears at door_.] Laura, it's a shame to lure me away from that +mad speculation in there. I thought I might make my fare back to New +York if I played until next summer. What's up? + +LAURA. Mr. Madison wants to talk to you, or rather I do, and I want +him to listen. + +WILL. [_His manner changing to one of cold, stolid calculation_.] Very +well. [_Comes down off step of house_. + +LAURA. Will. + +WILL. Yes? + +LAURA. I'm going home day after to-morrow on the Overland Limited. + +WILL. I know. + +LAURA. It's awfully kind of you to come out here, but under the +circumstances I'd rather you'd take an earlier or a later train. + +WILL. And may I ask what circumstances you refer to? + +LAURA. Mr. Madison and I are going to be married. [_Pause_.] He [Will +_looks inquiringly at_ JOHN.] knows of your former friendship for me, +and he has the idea that it must end. + +WILL. Then the Riverside Drive proposition, with Burgess's show thrown +in, is declared off, eh? + +LAURA. Yes; everything is absolutely declared off. + +WILL. Can't even be friends any more, eh? + +JOHN _crosses, and, taking_ LAURA'S _arm, passes her over to seat; his +back is partly to audience_. + +JOHN. You could hardly expect Miss Murdock to be friendly with you +under the circumstances. You could hardly expect me to [LAURA _puts +scarf across her shoulders_.] sanction any such friendship. + +WILL. I think I understand your position, young man, and I perfectly +agree with you, that is--if your plans come out successfully. + +JOHN. Thank you. + +LAURA. Then everything is settled [_Crossing in front of_ JOHN +_and facing_ WILL, _back to audience_.] just the way it ought to +be--frankly and aboveboard? + +WILL. Why, I guess so. If I was perfectly confident that this new +arrangement was going to result happily for you both, I think it would +be great, only I'm somewhat doubtful, for when people become serious +and then fail, I know how hard those things hit, having _been_ hit +once myself. + +JOHN. So you think we're making a wrong move and there isn't a chance +of success! + +WILL. No, I don't make any such gloomy prophecy. If you make Laura a +good husband, and she makes you a good wife, and together you win +out, I'll be mighty glad. As far as I am concerned I shall absolutely +forget every thought of Laura's friendship for me. + +LAURA. I thought you'd be just that way. + +[_Crosses to_ WILL, _shakes hands_. + +WILL. [_Rising_.] And now I must be off. [_Takes her by both hands +and shakes them_.] Good-bye, girlie! Madison, good luck. [_Crosses to_ +JOHN. _Shakes_ JOHN'S _hands; looks into his eyes_.] I think you've +got the stuff in you to succeed if your foot don't slip. + +JOHN. What do you mean by my foot slipping, Mr. Brockton? + +WILL. You want me to tell you? + +JOHN. I sure do. + +WILL. [_Turns to Laura_.] Laura, run into the house and see if +Mrs. Williams has won another quarter. [LAURA _sinks fearfully into +chair_.] Madison and I are going to smoke a cigar and have a friendly +chat, and when we get through I think we'll both be better off. + +LAURA. You are sure that everything will be all right? + +WILL. Sure. + +LAURA _looks at_ JOHN _for assurance, and exits; he nods +reassuringly_. + +WILL. Have a cigar? + +[SERVANT _places lamp on table inside house_. + +JOHN. No, I'll smoke my own. + +[_Crosses down right; sits in armchair_. + +WILL. What is your business? [_Crosses up to seat centre; sits_. + +JOHN. What's yours? + +WILL. I'm a broker. + +JOHN. I'm a reporter, so I've got something on you. + +WILL. What kind? + +JOHN. General utility, dramatic critic on Sunday nights. + +WILL. Pay you well? + +JOHN. [_Turns, looking at_ WILL.] That's pretty fresh. What's the +idea? + +WILL. I'm interested. I'm a plain man, Mr. Madison, and I do business +in a plain way. Now, if I ask you a few questions and discuss this +matter with you in a frank way, don't get it in your head that I'm +jealous or sore, but simply I don't want either of you people to make +a move that's going to cost you a lot of pain and trouble. If you want +me to talk sense to you, all right. If you don't we'll drop it now. +What's the answer? + +JOHN. I'll take a chance, but before you start I want to tell you that +the class of people that you belong to I have no use for--they don't +speak my language. You are what they call a manipulator of stocks; +that means that you're living on the weaknesses of other people, and +it almost means that you get your daily bread, yes, and your cake and +your wine, too, from the production of others. You're a "gambler +under cover." Show me a man who's dealing bank, and he's free and +aboveboard. You can figure the percentage against you, and then, if +you buck the tiger and get stung, you do it with your eyes open. With +your financiers the game is crooked twelve months of the year, and, +from a business point of view, I think you are a crook. Now I guess we +understand each other. If you've got anything to say, why, spill it. + +WILL _rises, comes down toward_ JOHN, _showing anger in his tones_. + +WILL. We are not talking business now, but women. How much money do +you earn? + +[_Crosses to chair left of table; gets it_. + +JOHN. Understand I don't think it is any of your damn business, but +I'm going through with you on this proposition, just to see how the +land lays. But take my tip, you be mighty careful how you speak about +the girl if you're not looking for trouble. + +WILL. All right, but how much did you say you made? + +[_Crosses over to centre of stage, carrying chair; sits_. + +JOHN. Thirty dollars a week. + +WILL. Do you know how much Laura could make if she just took a job on +her own merits? + +JOHN. As I don't intend to share in her salary, I never took the +trouble to inquire. + +WILL. She'd get about forty dollars. + +JOHN. That laps me ten. + +WILL. How are you going to support her? Her cabs cost more than your +salary, and she pays her week's salary for an every-day walking-hat. +She's always had a maid; her simplest gown flirts with a +hundred-dollar note; her manicurist and her hair-dresser will eat up +as much as you pay for your board. She never walks when it's stormy, +and every afternoon there's her ride in the park. She dines at the +best places in New York, and one meal costs her more than you make in +a day. Do you imagine for a moment that she's going to sacrifice these +luxuries for any great length of time? + +JOHN. I intend to give them to her. + +WILL. On thirty dollars a week? + +JOHN. I propose to go out and make a lot of money. + +WILL. How? + +JOHN. I haven't decided yet, but you can bet your sweet life that if I +ever try and make up my mind that it's got to be, it's got to be. + +WILL. Never have made it, have you? + +JOHN. I have never tried. + +WILL. Then how do you know you can? + +JOHN. Well, I'm honest and energetic. If you can get great wealth the +way you go along, I don't see why I can't earn a little. + +WILL. There's where you make a mistake. Money-getting doesn't always +come with brilliancy. I know a lot of fellows in New York who can +paint a great picture, write a good play, and, when it comes to +oratory, they've got me lashed to a pole; but they're always in debt. +They never get anything for what they do. In other words, young man, +they are like a sky-rocket without a stick,--plenty of brilliancy, but +no direction, and they blow up and fizzle all over the ground. + +JOHN. That's New York. I'm in Colorado, and I guess you know there is +a difference. + +WILL. I hope you'll make your money, because I tell you frankly +that's the only way you can hold this girl. She's full of heroics now, +self-sacrifice, and all the things that go to make up the third act of +a play, but the minute she comes to darn her stockings, wash out her +own handkerchiefs and dry them on the window, and send out for a pail +of coffee and a sandwich for lunch, take it from me it will go Blah! +[_Rises, crosses to front of table with chair, places it with back to +him, braces his back on it, facing_ JOHN.] You're in Colorado writing +her letters once a day with no checks in them. That may be all right +for some girl who hasn't tasted the joy of easy living, full of the +good things of life, but one who for ten years has been doing very +well in the way these women do is not going to let up for any great +length of time. So take my advice if you want to hold her. Get that +money quick, and don't be so damned particular how you get it either. + +JOHN'S _patience is evidently severely tried. He approaches_ WILL, +_who remains impassive_. + +JOHN. Of course you know you've got the best of me. + +WILL. How? + +JOHN. We're guests. + +WILL. No one's listening. + +JOHN. 'Tisn't that. If it was anywhere but here, if there was any way +to avoid all the nasty scandal, I'd come a shootin' for you, and you +know it. + +WILL. Gun-fighter, eh? + +JOHN. Perhaps. Let me tell you this. I don't know how you make your +money, but I know what you do with it. You buy yourself a small circle +of sycophants; you pay them well for feeding your vanity; and then you +pose,--pose with a certain frank admission of vice and degradation. +And those who aren't quite as brazen as you call it manhood. Manhood? +[_Crossing slowly to armchair, sits._] Why, you don't know what the +word means. It's the attitude of a pup and a cur. + +WILL. [_Angrily_.] Wait a minute [_Crosses to_ JOHN.], young man, or +I'll-- + +JOHN _rises quickly. Both men stand confronting each other for a +moment with fists clenched. They are on the very verge of a personal +encounter. Both seem to realize that they have gone too far_. + +JOHN. You'll what? + +WILL. Lose my temper and make a damn fool of myself. That's something +I've not done for--let me see--why, it must be nearly twenty +years--oh, yes, fully that. + +[_He smiles_; JOHN _relaxes and takes one step back_. + +JOHN. Possibly it's been about that length of time since you were +human, eh? + +WILL. Possibly--but you see, Mr. Madison, after all, you're at fault. + +JOHN. Yes? + +WILL. Yes, the very first thing you did was to lose your temper. Now +people who always lose their temper will never make a lot of money, +and you admit that that is a great necessity--I mean now--to you. + +JOHN. I can't stand for the brutal way you talk. [_Crosses up to seat, +picks up newspaper, slams it down angrily on seat, and sits with elbow +on balustrade_. + +WILL. But you have got to stand it. The truth is never gentle. +[_Crosses up and sits left of_ JOHN.] Most conditions in life are +unpleasant, and, if you want to meet them squarely, you have got to +realize the unpleasant point of view. That's the only way you can +fight them and win. + +JOHN [_Turns to_ WILL.] Still, I believe Laura means what she says, +in spite of all you say and the disagreeable logic of it. I think she +loves me. If she should ever want to go back to the old way of getting +along, I think she'd tell me so. So you see, Brockton, all your talk +is wasted, and we'll drop the subject. + +[_Crosses down and sits in armchair_. + +WILL. And if she should ever go back and come to me, I am going to +insist that she let you know all about it. It'll be hard enough to +lose her, caring for her the way you do, but it would hurt a lot more +to be double-crossed. + +JOHN. [_Sarcastically_.] That's very kind. Thanks! + +WILL. Don't get sore. It's common sense and it goes, does it not? + +JOHN. [_Turns to_ WILL.] Just what goes? + +WILL. If she leaves you first, you are to tell me, and if she comes to +me I'll make her let you know just when and why. + +JOHN _is leaning on arm, facing_ WILL; _his hand shoots out in a +gesture of warning to_ WILL. + +JOHN. Look out! + +WILL. I said common sense. + +JOHN. All right. + +WILL. Agreed? [_A pause_. + +JOHN. You're on. + +_By this time the stage is black and all that can be seen is the glow +of the two cigars. Piano in the next room is heard_. JOHN _crosses +slowly and deliberately to door, looks in, throws cigar away over the +terrace, exits into house, closes doors, and, as_ WILL _is seated on +terrace, puffing cigar, the red coal of which is alone visible, a slow +curtain_. + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE. _Six months have elapsed. The furnished room of_ LAURA MURDOCK, +_second story back of an ordinary, cheap theatrical lodging-house in +the theatre district of New York. The house is evidently of a type of +the old-fashioned brown-stone front, with high ceilings, dingy walls, +and long, rather insecure windows. The woodwork is depressingly dark. +The ceiling is cracked, the paper is old and spotted and in places +loose. There is a door leading to the hallway. There is a large +old-fashioned wardrobe in which are hung a few old clothes, most +of them a good deal worn and shabby, showing that the owner_--LAURA +MURDOCK--_has had a rather hard time of it since leaving Colorado +in the first act. The doors of this wardrobe must be equipped with +springs so they will open outward, and also furnished with wires so +they can be controlled from the back. This is absolutely necessary, +owing to "business" which is done during the progress of the act. The +drawer in the bottom of the wardrobe is open at rise. This is filled +with a lot of rumpled, tissue-paper and other rubbish. An old pair of +shoes is seen at the upper end of the wardrobe on the floor. There is +an armchair over which is thrown an ordinary kimono, and on top of +the wardrobe are a number of magazines and old books, and an unused +parasol wrapped up in tissue paper._ + +_The dresser, which is upstage, against the wall, is in keeping with +the general meanness, and its adornment consists of old postcards +stuck in between the mirror and its frame, with some well-worn veils +and ribbons hung on the side. On the dresser is a pincushion, a bottle +of cheap perfume, purple in colour and nearly empty; a common crockery +match-holder, containing matches, which must be practicable; a +handkerchief-box, powder-box and puff, rouge-box and rouge paw, +hand mirror, small alcohol curling-iron heater, which must also be +practicable, as it is used in the "business" of the act; scissors, +curling-tongs, hair comb and brush, and a small cheap picture of_ JOHN +MADISON; _a small work-box containing a thimble and thread,--and stuck +in the pincushion are a couple of needles, threaded. Directly to the +left of the bureau, with the door to the outside closet intervening, +is a broken-down washstand, on which is a basin half full of water, a +bottle of tooth-powder, tooth brushes and holder, soap and soap-dish, +and other cheap toilet articles, and a small drinking-glass. Hung on +the corner of the washstand is a soiled towel. Hung on the rack across +the top of the washstand one can see a pair of stockings. On the floor +in front of the washstand is a pitcher half full of water; also a +large waste-water jar of the cheapest type._ + +_Below the washstand, and with the head against the wall, is a +three-quarter old wooden bed, also showing the general decay of the +entire room. Tacked on the head of this bed is a large photo of_ JOHN +MADISON, _with a small bow of dainty blue ribbon at the top, covering +the tack. Under the photo are arranged half a dozen cheap, artificial +violets, in pitiful recognition of the girl's love for her absent +sweetheart._ + +_Under the mattress at the head of the bed is a heavy cardboard box, +about thirty inches long, seven inches wide and four inches deep, +containing about one hundred and twenty-five letters and eighty +telegrams, tied in about eight bundles with dainty ribbon. One bundle +must contain all practical letters of several closely written pages +each, each letter having been opened. They must be written upon +business paper and envelopes, such as are used in newspaper offices +and by business men._ + +_Under the pillow at the head of the bed is carelessly thrown a +woman's night-dress. On the bed is an old book, open, with face +downward, and beside it is an apple which some one has been nibbling. +Across the foot of the bed is a soiled quilt, untidily folded. The +pillows are hollow in the centre, as if having been used lately. At +the foot of the bed is a small table, with soiled and ink-stained +cover, upon which are a cheap pitcher, containing some withered +carnations, and a desk-pad, with paper, pen, ink, and envelopes +scattered around._ + +_Against the wall below the bed is an old mantel-piece and fireplace +with iron grate, such as are used in houses of this type. On the +mantel-piece are photos of actors and actresses, an old mantel clock +in the centre, in front of which is a box of cheap peppermint candy in +large pieces, and a plate with two apples upon it; some cheap pieces +of bric-a-brac and a little vase containing joss-sticks, such as one +might burn to improve the atmosphere of these dingy, damp houses. +Below the mantel-piece is a thirty-six inch theatre trunk, with +theatre labels on it, in the tray of which are articles of clothing, +a small box of thread, and a bundle of eight pawn tickets. Behind the +trunk is a large cardboard box. Hanging from the ceiling directly +over the table is a single arm gas-jet, from which is hung a turkey +wish-bone. On the jet is a little wire arrangement to hold small +articles for heating. Beside the table is a chair. Under the bed are a +pair of bedroom slippers and a box. Between the bed and the mantel +is a small tabourette on which are a book and a candle-stick with +the candle half burned. On the floor in front of the door is a +slipper,--also another in front of the dresser,--as if they had been +thrown carelessly down. On the wardrobe door, on the down-stage side, +is tacked another photo of_ JOHN MADISON. + +_In an alcove off left is a table on which is a small oil stove, two +cups, saucers and plates, a box of matches, tin coffee-box, and a +small Japanese teapot. On a projection outside the window is a pint +milk bottle, half filled with milk, and an empty benzine bottle, which +is labelled. Both are covered with snow._ + +_The backing shows a street snow-covered. In arranging the properties +it must be remembered that in the wardrobe is a box of Uneeda +biscuits, with one end torn open. There is a door down right, opening +inward, leading into the hallway. The window is at back, running from +floor nearly to the ceiling. This window does not rise, but opens in +the manner of the French or door window._ + +_On the outside of the window covering the same is an iron guard such +as is used in New York on the lower back windows. The rods running up +and down are about four inches apart. There is a projection outside +the window such as would be formed by a storm door in the basement; +running the full length of the window and about thirty inches wide, +raised about a foot from the floor in front and about nine inches in +the back, there is opening inward a door at left back, leading into +a small alcove, as has been mentioned before. The door is half glass, +the glass part being the upper half, and is ajar when the curtain +rises. A projection at fireplace such as would be made for a chimney +is in the wall which runs from left centre diagonally to left first +entrance._ + +AT RISE _the stage is empty. After a pause_ LAURA _enters, passes the +dresser, places umbrella at the right, end of it against wall, crosses +to back of armchair, removes gloves, lays them over back of chair, +takes off coat and hat, hangs hat on end of wardrobe, and puts coat +inside; notices old slipper in front of dresser and one on the extreme +right, and with impatience picks them up and puts them in the +wardrobe drawer. Then crosses to dresser, gets needle and thread off +pincushion, and mends small rip in glove, after which she puts gloves +in top drawer of dresser, crosses to extreme end of dresser, and gets +handkerchief out of box, takes up bottle containing purple perfume, +holds it up so she can see there is only a small quantity left, +sprinkles a drop on handkerchief carefully, so as not to use too much, +looks at bottle again to see how much is left, places it on dresser; +goes to up-stage side of bed, kneels on head of the bed and looks +lovingly at photo of_ JOHN MADISON, _and finally pulls up the +mattress, takes out box of letters, and opens it. She then sits down +in Oriental fashion, with her feet under her, selects a bundle of +letters, unties the ribbon, and takes out a letter such as has been +hereinbefore described, glances it over, puts it down in her lap, and +again takes a long look at the picture of_ JOHN MADISON. ANNIE _is +heard coming upstairs_. LAURA _looks quickly towards the door, puts +the letters back in box, and hurriedly places box under mattress, and +replaces pillow_. ANNIE _knocks on door_. LAURA _rises and crosses to +door._ + +LAURA. Come in. + +ANNIE, _a chocolate-colored negress, enters. She is slovenly in +appearance, but must not in any way denote the "mammy." She is the +type one encounters in cheap theatrical lodging-houses. She has a +letter in her hand,--also a clean towel folded,--and approaches_ +LAURA. + +LAURA. Hello, Annie. + +ANNIE. Heah's yo' mail, Miss Laura. + +LAURA. [_Taking letter._] Thank you! + +[_She looks at the address and does not open it._ + +ANNIE. One like dat comes every mornin', don't it? Used to all be +postmahked Denver. Must 'a' moved. [_Trying to look over_ LAURA'S +_shoulder_; LAURA _turns and sees her_; ANNIE _looks away._] Where is +dat place called Goldfield, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. In Nevada. + +ANNIE. In _Nevada_? + +LAURA. Yes, Nevada. + +ANNIE. [_Draws her jacket closer around her as if chilly._] Must +be mighty smaht to write yuh every day. De pos'man brings it 'leven +o'clock mos' always, sometimes twelve, and again sometimes tehn; but +it comes every day, don't it? + +LAURA. I know. + +ANNIE. [_Crosses to right of armchair, brushes it off and makes an +effort to read letter, leaning across chair._] Guess must be from yo' +husban', ain't it? + +LAURA. No, I haven't any. + +ANNIE. [_Crossing to centre triumphantly._] Dat's what Ah tole Mis' +Farley when she was down talkin' about you dis morning. She said if he +all was yo' husband he might do somethin' to help you out. Ah told her +Ah didn't think you had any husban'. Den she says you ought to have +one, you're so pretty. + +LAURA. Oh, Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Sees door open; goes and bangs it shut._] Der ain't a decent +door in dis old house. Mis' Farley said yo' might have mos' any man +you [_Hangs clean towel on washstand._] wanted just for de askin', but +Ah said yuh [_Takes newspaper and books off bed, and places them on +table._] was too particular about the man yo' 'd want. Den she did a +heap o' talking. + +LAURA. About what? [_Places letter open on table, looks at hem of +skirt, discovers a rip, rises, crosses up to dresser, gets needle, +crosses down to trunk; opens and takes thimble out; closes lid of +tray, sits on it, and sews skirt during scene._ + +ANNIE. [_At bed, fussing around, folds nightgown and places it under +pillow._] Well, you know, Mis' Farley she's been havin' so much +trouble wid her roomers. Yestuhday dat young lady on de second flo' +front, she lef'. She's goin' wiv some troupe on the road. She owed her +room for three weeks and jus' had to leave her trunk. [_Crosses and +fusses over table._] My! how Mis' Farley did scold her. Mis' Farley +let on she could have paid dat money if she wanted to, but somehow Ah +guess she couldn't-- + +[_Reads letter on table._ + +LAURA. [_Sees her, angrily exclaims._] Annie! + +ANNIE. [_In confusion, brushing off table._]--for if she could she +wouldn't have left her trunk, would she, Miss Laura? + +[_Crosses to armchair, and picks up kimono off back._ + +LAURA. No, I suppose not. What did Mrs. Farley say about me? + +ANNIE. Oh! nothin' much. [_Crosses left and stands._ + +LAURA. Well, what? + +ANNIE. She kinder say somethin' 'bout yo' being three weeks behind in +yo' room rent, and she said she t'ought it was 'bout time yuh handed +her somethin', seein' as how yuh must o' had some stylish friends when +yuh come here. + +LAURA. Who, for instance? + +ANNIE. Ah don't know. Mis' Farley said some of 'em might slip yo' +enough jest to help yuh out. [_Pause._] Ain't yo' got nobody to take +care of you at all, Miss Laura? + +[_Hangs kimono over back of armchair._ + +LAURA. No! No one. + +ANNIE. Dat's too bad. + +LAURA. Why? + +ANNIE. [_Crossing again._] Mis' Farley says yuh wouldn't have no +trouble at all gettin' any man to take care of yuh if yuh wanted to. + +LAURA. [_With sorrowful shudder._] Please [_Doors of wardrobe open +very slowly._] don't, Annie. + +ANNIE. Dere's a gemman [_Playing with corner of tablecloth._] dat +calls on one of de ladies from the Hippodrome, in de big front room +downstairs. He's mighty nice, and he's been askin' 'bout you. + +LAURA. [_Exasperated._] Oh, shut up! + +ANNIE. [_Sees doors of wardrobe have swung open; she crosses, slams +them shut, turns to_ LAURA.] Mis' Farley says--[_Doors have swung open +again; they hit her in the back. She turns and bangs them to with all +her strength_.] Damn dat door! [_Crosses to washstand, grabs basin +which is half full of water, empties same into waste-jar, puts basin +on washstand, and wipes it out with soiled towel_.] Mis' Farley says +if she don't get someone in the house dat has reg'lar money soon, +she'll have to shut up and go to the po'house. + +LAURA. I'm sorry; I'll try again to-day. [_Rises, crosses up to +mantel, gets desk-pad, &c., crosses to right of table, sits_. + +ANNIE. [_Crosses to back of bed, wiping basin with towel_.] Ain't yo' +got any job at all? + +LAURA. No. + +ANNIE. When yuh come here yuh had lots of money and yo' was mighty +good to me. You know Mr. Weston? + +LAURA. Jim Weston? + +ANNIE. Yassum, Mr. Weston what goes ahead o' shows and lives on the +top floor back; he says nobody's got jobs now. Dey're so many actors +and actoresses out o' work. Mis' Farley says she don't know how she's +goin' to live. She said you'd been mighty nice up until three weeks +ago, but yuh ain't got much left, have you, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. [_Rising and going to the bureau_.] No. It's all gone. + +ANNIE. Mah sakes! All dem rings and things? You ain't done sold them? +[_Sinks on bed_. + +LAURA. They're pawned. What did Mrs. Farley say she was going to do? + +ANNIE. Guess maybe Ah'd better not tell. + +[_Crosses to door hurriedly, carrying soiled towel_. + +LAURA. Please do. [_Crosses to chair, left side_. + +ANNIE. Yuh been so good to me, Miss Laura. Never was nobody in dis +house what give me so much, and Ah ain't been gettin' much lately. And +when Mis' Farley said yuh must either pay yo' rent or she would ask +yuh for your room, Ah jest set right down on de back kitchen stairs +and cried. Besides, Mis' Farley don't like me very well since you've +ben havin' yo' breakfasts and dinners brought up here. + +LAURA. Why not? [_Takes kimono of chair-back, crosses up to dresser, +puts kimono in drawer, takes out purse_. + +ANNIE. She has a rule in dis house dat nobody can use huh chiny or +fo'ks or spoons who ain't boa'ding heah, and de odder day when yuh +asked me to bring up a knife and fo'k she ketched me coming upstairs, +and she says, "Where yuh goin' wid all dose things, Annie?" Ah said, +"Ah'm just goin' up to Miss Laura's room with dat knife and fo'k." Ah +said, "Ah'm goin' up for nothin' at all, Mis' Farley, she jest wants +to look at them, Ah guess." She said, "She wants to eat huh dinner wid +'em, Ah guess." Ah got real mad, and Ah told her if she'd give me mah +pay Ah'd brush right out o' here; dat's what Ah'd do, Ah'd brush right +out o' here. [_Violently shaking out towel_. + +LAURA. I'm sorry, Annie, if I've caused you any trouble. Never mind, +I'll be able to pay the rent to-morrow or next day anyway. [_She +fumbles in purse, takes out a quarter, and turns to_ ANNIE.] Here! + +ANNIE. No, ma'am, Ah don' want dat. + +[_Making a show of reluctance_. + +LAURA. Please take it. + +ANNIE. No, ma'am, Ah don' want it. You need dat. Dat's breakfast money +for yuh, Miss Laura. + +LAURA. Please take it, Annie. I might just as well get rid of this as +anything else. + +ANNIE. [_Takes it rather reluctantly_.] Yuh always was so good, Miss +Laura. Sho' yuh don' want dis? + +LAURA. Sure. + +ANNIE. Sho' yo' goin' to get planty mo'? + +LAURA. Sure. + +MRS. FARLEY'S VOICE. [_Downstairs_.] Annie! Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Going to door, opens it_.] Dat's Mis' Farley. [_To_ MRS. +FARLEY.] Yassum, Mis' Farley. + +SAME VOICE. Is Miss Murdock up there? + +ANNIE. Yassum, Mis' Farley, yassum! + +MRS. FARLEY. Anything doin'? + +ANNIE. Huh? + +MRS. FARLEY. Anything doin'? + +ANNIE. [_At door_.] Ah--Ah--hain't asked, Missy Farley. + +MRS. FARLEY. Then do it. + +LAURA. [_Coming to the rescue at the door. To_ ANNIE.] I'll answer +her. [_Out of door to_ MRS. FARLEY.] What is it, Mrs. Farley? + +MRS. FARLEY. [_Her voice softened_.] Did ye have any luck this +morning, dearie? + +LAURA. No; but I promise you faithfully to help you out this afternoon +or to-morrow. + +MRS. FARLEY. Sure? Are you certain? + +LAURA. Absolutely. + +MRS. FARLEY. Well, I must say these people expect me to keep--[_Door +closed_. + +LAURA _quietly closes the door, and_ MRS. FARLEY'S _rather strident +voice is heard indistinctly_. LAURA _sighs and walks toward table; +sits_. ANNIE _looks after her, and then slowly opens the door_. + +ANNIE. Yo' sho' dere ain't nothin' I can do fo' yuh, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. Nothing. + +ANNIE _exits_. LAURA _sits down and looks at letter, opening it. It +consists of several pages closely written. She reads some of them +hurriedly, skims through the rest, and then turns to the last page +without reading; glances at it; lays it on table; rises_. + +LAURA. Hope, just nothing but hope. + +_She crosses to bed, falls face down upon it, burying her face in her +hands. Her despondency is palpable. As she lies there a hurdy-gurdy +in the street starts to play a popular air. This arouses her and she +rises, crosses to wardrobe, takes out box of crackers, opens window, +gets bottle of milk off sill outside, places them on table, gets glass +off washstand, at the same time humming the tune of the hurdy-gurdy, +when a knock comes; she crosses quickly to dresser; powders her nose. +The knock is timidly repeated_. + +LAURA. [_Without turning, and in a rather tired tone of voice_.] Come +in. + +JIM WESTON, _a rather shabby theatrical advance-agent of the old +school, enters timidly, halting at the door and holding the knob in +his hand. He is a man of about forty years old, dressed in an ordinary +manner, of medium height, and in fact has the appearance of a once +prosperous clerk who has been in hard luck. His relations with_ +LAURA _are those of pure friendship. They both live in the same +lodging-place, and, both having been out of employment, they have +naturally become acquainted_. + +JIM. Can I come in? + +LAURA. [_Without turning_.] Hello, Jim Weston. [_He closes door and +enters_.] Any luck? + +JIM. Lots of it. + +LAURA. That's good. Tell me. + +JIM. It's bad luck. Guess you don't want to hear. + +LAURA. I'm sorry. Where have you been? + +JIM. I kind o' felt around up at Burgess's office. I thought I might +get a job there, but he put me off until to-morrow. Somehow those +fellows always do business to-morrow. + +[_Hurdy-gurdy dies out_. + +LAURA. Yes, and there's always to-day to look after. + +JIM. I'm ready to give up. I've tramped Broadway for nine weeks until +every piece of flagstone gives me the laugh when it sees my feet +coming. Got a letter from the missis this morning. The kids got to +have some clothes, there's measles in the town, and mumps in the next +village. I've just got to raise some money or get some work, or the +first thing you'll know I'll be hanging around Central Park on a dark +night with a club. + +LAURA. I know just how you feel. Sit down, Jim. [JIM _crosses and +sits in chair right of table_.] It's pretty tough for me [_Offers_ JIM +_glass of milk; he refuses; takes crackers_.], but it must be a whole +lot worse for you with a wife and kids. + +JIM. Oh, if a man's alone he can generally get along--turn his hand to +anything; but a woman-- + +LAURA. Worse, you think? + +JIM. I was just thinking about you and what Burgess said? + +LAURA. What was that? + +[_Crosses to bed; sits on up-stage side, sipping milk_. + +JIM. You know Burgess and I used to be in the circus business +together. He took care of the grafters when I was boss canvas man. I +never could see any good in shaking down the rubes for all the money +they had and then taking part of it. He used to run the privilege car, +you know. + +LAURA. Privilege car? + +JIM. Had charge of all the pickpockets,--dips we called +'em--sure-thing gamblers, and the like. Made him rich. I kept sort o' +on the level and I'm broke. Guess it don't pay to be honest-- + +LAURA. [_Turns to him and in a significant voice_:] You don't really +think that? + +JIM. No, maybe not. Ever since I married the missis and the first kid +come, we figured the only good money was the kind folks worked for and +earned; but when you can't get hold of that, it's tough. + +LAURA. I know. + +JIM. Burgess don't seem to be losing sleep over the tricks he's +turned. He's happy and prosperous, but I guess he ain't any better now +than he was then. + +LAURA. Maybe not. I've been trying to get an engagement from him. +There are half a dozen parts in his new attractions that I could do, +but he has never absolutely said "no," but yet somehow he's never said +"yes." + +JIM. He spoke about you. + +LAURA. In what way? [_Rising, stands behind_ JIM'S _chair._ + +JIM. I gave him my address and he seen it was yours, too. Asked if I +lived in the same place. + +LAURA. Was that all? + +JIM. Wanted to know how you was getting on. I let him know you needed +work, but I didn't tip my hand you was flat broke. He said something +about you being a damned fool. + +LAURA. [_Suddenly and interested._] How? [_She crosses._ + +JIM. Well, Johnny Ensworth--you know he used to do the fights on the +_Evening Journal_; now he's press-agent for Burgess; nice fellow and +way on the inside--he told me where you were in wrong. + +LAURA. What have I done? [_Sits in armchair._ + +JIM. Burgess don't put up the money for any of them musical +comedies--he just trails. Of course he's got a lot of influence, and +he's always Johnny-on-the-Spot to turn any dirty trick that they +want. There are four or five rich men in town who are there with the +bank-roll, providing he engages women who ain't so very particular +about the location of their residence, and who don't hear a curfew +ring at 11:30 every night. + +LAURA. And he thinks I am too particular? + +JIM. That's what was slipped me. Seems that one of the richest men +that is in on Mr. Burgess's address-book is a fellow named Brockton +from downtown some place. He's got more money than the Shoe and +Leather National Bank. He likes to play show business. + +LAURA. [_Rises quickly._] Oh! [_Crosses to wardrobe, gets hat; crosses +to dresser, gets scissors with intention of curling feathers._ + +JIM. I thought you knew him. I thought it was just as well to tell you +where he and Burgess stand. They're pals. + +LAURA. [_Coming over to_ JIM _and with emphasis crosses to down-stage +side of bed; puts hat and scissors on bed._] I don't want you to talk +about him or any of them. I just want you to know that I'm trying to +do everything in my power to go through this season without any more +trouble. I've pawned everything I've got; I've cut every friend I +knew. But where am I going to end? That's what I want to know--where +am I going to end? [_To bed and sits_.] Every place I look for a +position something interferes. It's almost as if I were blacklisted. +I know I could get jobs all right if I wanted to pay the price, but I +won't. I just want to tell you, I won't. No! + +[_Rises, crosses to mantel, rests elbow._ + +JIM. That's the way to talk. [_Rises._] I don't know you very well, +but I've watched you close. I'm just a common, ordinary showman who +never had much money, and I'm going out o' date. I've spent most of +my time with nigger-minstrel shows and circuses, but I've been on the +square. That's why I'm broke. [_Rather sadly._] Once I thought +the missis would have to go back and do her acrobatic act, but she +couldn't do that, she's grown so damn fat. [_Crosses to_ LAURA.] Just +you don't mind. It'll all come out right. + +LAURA. It's an awful tough game, isn't it? + +JIM. [_During this speech_ LAURA _gets cup, pours milk back into +bottle, closes biscuit-box, puts milk on shed outside, and biscuits +into wardrobe, cup in alcove._] It's hell forty ways from the Jack. +It's tough for me, but for a pretty woman with a lot o' rich fools +jumping out o' their automobiles and hanging around stage doors, +it must be something awful. I ain't blaming the women. They say +"self-preservation is the first law of nature," and I guess that's +right; but sometimes when the show is over and I see them fellows with +their hair plastered back, smoking cigarettes in a [LAURA _crosses +to chair right of table and leans over back._] holder long enough to +reach from here to Harlem, and a bank-roll that would bust my pocket +and turn my head, I feel as if I'd like to get a gun and go a-shooting +around this old town. + +LAURA. Jim! + +JIM. Yes, I do--you bet. + +LAURA. That wouldn't pay, would it? + +JIM. No, they're not worth the job of sitting on that throne in Sing +Sing, and I'm too poor to go to Matteawan. But all them fellows under +nineteen and over fifty-nine ain't much use to themselves or anyone +else. + +LAURA. [_Rather meditatively._] Perhaps all of them are not so bad. + +JIM. [_Sits on bed._] Yes, they are,--angels and all. Last season I +had one of them shows where a rich fellow backed it on account of a +girl. We lost money and he lost his girl; then we got stuck in +Texas. I telegraphed: "Must have a thousand, or can't move." He just +answered: "Don't move." We didn't. + +LAURA. But that was business. + +JIM. Bad business. It took a year for some of them folks to get back +to Broadway. Some of the girls never did, and I guess never will. + +LAURA. Maybe they're better off, Jim. [_Sits right of table._ + +JIM. Couldn't be worse. They're still in Texas. [_To himself._] Wish I +knew how to do something else, being a plumber or a walking delegate; +they always have jobs. + +LAURA. Well, I wish I could do something else too, but I can't, and +we've got to make the best of it. + +JIM. I guess so. I'll see you this evening. I hope you'll have good +news by that time. [_Starts to exit, about to open door; then retreats +a step, with hand on door-knob, crosses and in a voice meant to be +kindly_] If you'd like to go to the theatre to-night, and take some +other woman in the house, maybe I can get a couple of tickets for some +of the shows. I know a lot of fellows who are working. + +LAURA. No, thanks. I haven't anything to wear to the theatre, and I +don't-- + +JIM. [_With a smile crosses to_ LAURA, _puts arm around her._] Now you +just cheer up! Something's sure to turn up. It always has for me, and +I'm a lot older than you, both in years and in this business. There's +always a break in hard luck sometime--that's sure. + +LAURA. [_Smiling through her tears._] I hope so. But things are +looking pretty hopeless now, aren't they? + +JIM. I'll go down and give Mrs. F. a line o' talk and try to square +you for a couple of days more anyway. But I guess she's laying pretty +close to the cushion herself, poor woman. + +LAURA. Annie says a lot of people owe her. + +JIM. Well, you can't pay what you haven't got. And even if money was +growing on trees, it's winter now. [JIM _goes towards door._] I'm off. +Maybe to-day is lucky day. So long! + +LAURA. Good-bye. + +JIM. Keep your nerve. [_Exit_ + +LAURA. I will. [_She sits for a moment in deep thought, picks up the +letter received, as if to read it, and then throws it down in anger. +She buries her head in hands_.] I can't stand it--I just simply can't +stand it. + +MRS. FARLEY'S VOICE. [_Off stage_.] Miss Murdock--Miss Murdock. + +LAURA. [_Brushing away tears, rises, goes to door, and opens it_.] +What is it? + +SAME VOICE. There's a lady down here to see you. + +ELFIE'S VOICE. [_Off stage_.] Hello, dearie, can I come up? + +LAURA. Is that you, Elfie? + +ELFIE. Yes; shall I come up? + +LAURA. Why, certainly. + +_She waits at the door for a moment, and_ ELFIE ST. CLAIR _appears. +She is gorgeously gowned in the rather extreme style affected by the +usual New York woman who is cared for by a gentleman of wealth and +who has not gone through the formality of matrimonial alliance. Her +conduct is always exaggerated and her attitude vigorous. Her gown is +of the latest design, and in every detail of dress she shows evidence +of most extravagant expenditure. She carries a hand-bag of gold, +upon which are attached such trifles as a gold cigarette-case, a gold +powder-box, pencils, and the like_. ELFIE _throws her arms around_ +LAURA, _and both exchange kisses_. + +ELFIE. Laura, you old dear [_Crossing to table_.], I've just found out +where you've been hiding, and came around to see you. + +LAURA. [_Who is much brightened by_ ELFIE'S _appearance_.] Elfie, +you're looking bully. How are you, dear? + +ELFIE. Fine. + +LAURA. Come in and sit down. I haven't much to offer, but-- + +ELFIE. Oh, never mind. It's such a grand day outside, and I've come +around in my car to take you out. [_Sits right of table_.] You know +I've got a new one, and it can go some. + +LAURA. [_Sits on arm of chair_.] I am sorry, but I can't go out this +afternoon, Elfie. + +ELFIE. What's the matter? + +LAURA. You see I'm staying home a good deal nowadays. I haven't been +feeling very well and I don't go out much. + +ELFIE. I should think not. I haven't seen you in Rector's or Martin's +since you come back from Denver. Got a glimpse of you one day trailing +up Broadway, but couldn't get to you--you dived into some office or +other. [_For the first time she surveys the room, rises, looks around +critically, crossing to mantel_.] Gee! Whatever made you come into a +dump like this? It's the limit. + +LAURA. [_Crossing and standing back of the table_.] Oh, I know it +isn't pleasant, but it's my home, and after all--a home's a home. + +ELFIE. Looks more like a prison. [_Takes candy from mantel; spits it +out on floor_.] Makes me think of the old days of Child's sinkers and +a hall bedroom. + +LAURA. It's comfortable. [_Leaning hands on table_. + +ELFIE. Not! [_Sits on bed, trying bed with comedy effect_. Say, is +this here for an effect, or do you sleep on it? + +LAURA. I sleep on it. + +ELFIE. No wonder you look tired. Say, listen, dearie. What else is the +matter with you anyway? + +LAURA. Nothing. + +ELFIE. Yes, there is. What happened between you and Brockton? +[_Notices faded flowers in vase on table; takes them out, tosses them +into fireplace, replaces them with gardenias which she wears_.] He's +not broke, because I saw him the other day. + +LAURA. Where? + +ELFIE. In the park. Asked me out to luncheon, but I couldn't go. You +know, dearie, I've got to be so careful. Jerry's so awful jealous--the +old fool. + +LAURA. Do you see much of Jerry nowadays, Elfie? + +ELFIE. Not any more than I can help and be nice. He gets on my nerves. +Of course, I've heard about your quitting Brockton. + +LAURA. Then why do you ask? + +[_Crosses around chair right of table; stands_. + +ELFIE. Just wanted to hear from your own dear lips what the trouble +was. Now tell me all about it. Can I smoke here? + +[_Takes cigarette-case up, opens it, selecting cigarette_. + +LAURA. Surely. [_Gets matches off bureau, puts them on table_. + +ELFIE. Have one? [_Offers case_. + +LAURA. No, thank you. + +[_Sits in chair right of table, facing_ ELFIE. + +ELFIE. H'm-m, h'm-m, hah! [_Lights cigarette_.] Now go ahead. Tell me +all the scandal. I'm just crazy to know. + +LAURA. There's nothing to tell. I haven't been able to find work, that +is all, and I'm short of money. You can't live in hotels, you know, +with cabs and all that sort of thing, when you're not working. + +ELFIE. Yes, you can. I haven't worked in a year. + +LAURA. But you don't understand, dear. I--I--Well, you know I--well, +you know--I can't say what I want. + +ELFIE. Oh, yes, you can. You can say anything to me--everybody else +does. We've been pals. I know you got along a little faster in the +business than I did. The chorus was my limit, and you went into the +legitimate thing. But we got our living just the same way. I didn't +suppose there was any secret between you and me about that. + +LAURA. I know there wasn't then, Elfie, but I tell you I'm different +now. I don't want to do that sort of thing, and I've been very +unlucky. This has been a terribly hard season for me. I simply haven't +been able to get an engagement. + +ELFIE. Well, you can't get on this way. Won't [_Pauses, knocking ashes +off cigarette to cover hesitation_.] Brockton help you out? + +LAURA. What's the use of talking to you [_Rises and crosses to +fireplace_.], Elfie; you don't understand. + +ELFIE. [_Puffing deliberately on cigarette and crossing her legs in +almost a masculine attitude_.] No? Why don't I understand? + +LAURA. Because you can't; you've never felt as I have. + +ELFIE. How do you know? + +LAURA. [_Turning impatiently_.] Oh, what's the use of explaining? + +ELFIE. You know, Laura, I'm not much on giving advice, but you make me +sick. I thought you'd grown wise. A young girl just butting into this +business might possibly make a fool of herself, but you ought to be on +to the game and make the best of it. + +LAURA. [_Going over to her angrily_.] If you came up here, Elfie, to +talk that sort of stuff to me, please don't. I was West this summer. +I met someone, a real man, who did me a whole lot of good,--a man who +opened my eyes to a different way of going along--a man who--Oh, well, +what's the use? You don't know--you don't know. [_Sits on bed_. + +ELFIE. [_Throws cigarette into fireplace_.] I don't know, don't I? I +don't know, I suppose, that when I came to this town from up state,--a +little burg named Oswego,--and joined a chorus, that I didn't fall in +love with just such a man. I suppose I don't know that then I was +the best-looking girl in New York, and everybody talked about me? I +suppose I don't know that there were men, all ages and with all kinds +of money, ready to give me anything for the mere privilege of taking +me out to supper? And I didn't do it, did I? For three years I stuck +by this good man who was to lead me in a good way toward a good life. +And all the time I was getting older, never quite so pretty one day +as I had been the day before. I never knew then what it was to be +tinkered with by hair-dressers and manicures or a hundred and one of +those other people who make you look good. I didn't have to have them +then. [_Rises, crosses to right of table, facing_ LAURA.] Well, you +know, Laura, what happened. + +LAURA. Wasn't it partly your fault, Elfie? + +ELFIE. [_Speaking across table angrily._] Was it my fault that time +made me older and I took on a lot of flesh? Was it my fault that the +work and the life took out the colour, and left the make-up? Was it my +fault that other pretty young girls came along, just as I'd come, and +were chased after, just as I was? Was it my fault the cabs weren't +waiting any more and people didn't talk about how pretty I was? And +was it my fault when he finally had me alone, and just because no one +else wanted me, he got tired and threw me flat--cold flat [_Brings +hand down on table._]--and I'd been on the dead level with him! [_With +almost a sob, crosses up to bureau, powders nose, comes down back of +table._] It almost broke my heart. Then I made up my mind to get +even and get all I could out of the game. Jerry came along. He was a +has-been and I was on the road to be. He wanted to be good to me, and +I let him. That's all. + +LAURA. Still, I don't see how you can live that way. + +[_Lies on bed._ + +ELFIE. Well, you did, and you didn't kick. + +LAURA. Yes, but things are different with me now. You'd be the same +way if you were in my place. + +ELFIE. No. I've had all the romance I want, and I'll stake you to all +your love affairs. [_Crosses back of bed, touches picture over bed._] +I am out to gather in as much coin as I can in my own way, so when the +old rainy day comes along I'll have a little change to buy myself an +umbrella. + +LAURA. [_Rising and angrily crossing to armchair._] What did you come +here for? Why can't you leave me alone when I'm trying to get along? + +ELFIE. Because I want to help you. + +LAURA. [_During speech crosses to up-stage side of bed, angrily tosses +quilt to floor and sits on bed in tears._] You can't help me. I'm all +right--I tell you I am. What do you care anyway? + +ELFIE. [_Sits on bed, crosses down stage to lower left side of bed, +sits facing_ LAURA.] But I do care. I know how you feel with an old +cat for a landlady and living up here on a side street with a lot of +cheap burlesque people. Why, the room's cold [LAURA _rises, crosses +to window._], and there's no hot water, and you're beginning to look +shabby. You haven't got a job--chances are you won't have one. What +does [_Indicating picture on bed with thumb._] this fellow out there +do for you? Send you long letters of condolences? That's what I used +to get. When I wanted to buy a new pair of shoes or a silk petticoat, +he told me how much he loved me; so I had the other ones re-soled and +turned the old petticoat. And look at you, you're beginning to show +it. [_She surveys her carefully._] I do believe there are lines coming +in your face [LAURA _crosses to dresser quickly, picks up hand mirror, +and looks at herself._], and you hide in the house because you've +nothing new to wear. + +LAURA. [_Puts down mirror, crossing down to back of bed._] But I've +got what you haven't got. I may have to hide my clothes, but I don't +have to hide my face. And you with that man--he's old enough to be +your father--a toddling dote hanging on your apron-strings. I don't +see how you dare show your face to a decent woman. + +ELFIE. [_Rises._] You don't!--but you did once and I never caught you +hanging your head. You say he's old. I know he's old, but he's good to +me. He's making what's left of my life pleasant. You think I like him. +I don't,--sometimes I hate him,--but he understands; and you can bet +your life his check is in my mail every Saturday night or there's a +new lock on the door Sunday morning. [_Crossing to fireplace._ + +LAURA. How can you say such things to me? + +ELFIE. [_Crosses to left end of table._] Because I want you to be +square with yourself. You've lost all that precious virtue women gab +about. When you've got the name, I say get the game. + +LAURA. You can go now, Elfie, and don't come back. + +ELFIE. [_Gathering up muff, &c._] All right, if that's the way you +want it to be, I'm sorry. [_A knock on the door._ + +LAURA. [_Controlling herself after a moment's hesitation._] Come in. + +ANNIE _enters with a note, crosses, and hands it to_ LAURA. + +ANNIE. Mis' Farley sent dis, Miss Laura. + +[LAURA _takes the note and reads it. She is palpably annoyed_. + +LAURA. There's no answer. + +ANNIE. She tol' me not to leave until Ah got an answah. + +LAURA. You must ask her to wait. + +ANNIE. She wants an answah. + +LAURA. Tell her I'll be right down--that it will be all right. + +ANNIE. But, Miss Laura, she tol' me to get an answah. + +[_Exit reluctantly_. + +LAURA. [_Half to herself and half to_ ELFIE.] She's taking advantage +of your being here. [_Standing near door_. + +ELFIE. How? + +LAURA. She wants money--three weeks' room-rent. I presume she thought +you'd give it to me. + +ELFIE. Huh! [_Moves to left_. + +LAURA. [_Crossing to table_.] Elfie, I've been a little cross; I +didn't mean it. + +ELFIE. Well? + +LAURA. Could--could you lend me thirty-five dollars until I get to +work? + +ELFIE. Me? + +LAURA. Yes. + +ELFIE. Lend _you_ thirty-five dollars? + +LAURA. Yes; you've got plenty of money to spare. + +ELFIE. Well, you certainly have got a nerve. + +LAURA. You might give it to me. I haven't a dollar in the world, and +you pretend to be such a friend to me! + +ELFIE. [_Turning and angrily speaking across table_.] So that's the +kind of woman you are, eh? A moment ago you were going to kick me out +of the place because I wasn't decent enough to associate with you. +You know how I live. You know how I get my money--the same way you got +most of yours. And now that you've got this spasm of goodness I'm not +fit to be in your room; but you'll take my money to pay your debts. +You'll let me go out and do this sort of thing for your benefit, while +you try to play the grand lady. I've got your number now, Laura. Where +in hell is your virtue anyway? You can go to the devil--rich, poor, or +any other way. I'm off! ELFIE _rushes toward door; for a moment_ LAURA +_stands speechless, then bursts into hysterics_. + +LAURA. Elfie! Elfie! Don't go now! Don't leave me now! [ELFIE +_hesitates with hand on door-knob_.] I can't stand it. I can't be +alone. Don't go, please; don't go. + +LAURA _falls into_ ELFIE'S _arms, sobbing. In a moment_ ELFIE'S _whole +demeanour changes and she melts into the tenderest womanly sympathy, +trying her best to express herself in her crude way_. + +ELFIE. There, old girl, don't cry, don't cry. You just sit down here +and let me put my arms around you. [ELFIE _leads_ LAURA _over to +armchair, places muff, &c., in chair, and sits_ LAURA _down in chair_. +ELFIE _sits on right arm of chair with her left arm behind_ LAURA; +_hugs_ LAURA _to her_. LAURA _in tears and sobbing during scene_.] +I'm awful sorry--on the level, I am. I shouldn't have said it. I know +that. But I've got feelings too, even if folks don't give me credit +for it. + +LAURA. I know, Elfie. I've gone through about all I can stand. + +ELFIE. Well, I should say you have--and more than I would. Anyway a +good cry never hurts any woman. I have one myself, sometimes--under +cover. + +LAURA. [_More seriously, recovering herself_.] Perhaps what you said +was true. + +ELFIE. We won't talk about it. + +[_Wiping_ LAURA'S _eyes and kissing her_. + +LAURA. [_With persistence_.] But perhaps it was true, and, Elfie-- + +ELFIE. Yes. + +LAURA. I think I've stood this just as long as I can. Every day is a +living horror. + +ELFIE. [_Looking around room_.] It's the limit. + +LAURA. I've got to have money to pay the rent. I've pawned everything +I have, except the clothes on my back. + +ELFIE. I'll give you all the money you need, dearie. Great heavens, +don't worry about that. Don't you care if I got sore and--and lost my +head. + +LAURA. No; I can't let you do that. [_Rises; crosses to table_.] You +may have been mad,--awfully mad,--but what you said was the truth. I +can't take your money. [_Sits right of table_. + +ELFIE. Oh, forget that. [_Rises, crosses to centre_. + +LAURA. Maybe--maybe if he knew all about it--the suffering--he +wouldn't blame me. + +ELFIE. Who--the good man who wanted to lead you to the good life +without even a bread-basket for an advance-agent? Huh! + +LAURA. Still he doesn't know how desperately poor I am. + +ELFIE. He knows you're out of work, don't he? + +LAURA. [_Turning to_ ELFIE.] Not exactly. I've let him think that I'm +getting along all right. + +ELFIE. Then you're a chump. Hasn't he sent you anything? + +LAURA. He hasn't anything to send. + +ELFIE. Well, what does he think you're going to live on?--asphalt +croquettes with conversation sauce? + +LAURA. I don't know--I don't know. [_Sobbing_. + +ELFIE. [_Crosses to_ LAURA, _puts arms around her_.] Don't be foolish, +dearie. You know there is somebody waiting for you--somebody who'll be +good to you and get you out of this mess. + +LAURA. You mean Will Brockton? [_Looking up_. + +ELFIE. Yes. + +LAURA. Do you know where he is? + +ELFIE. Yes. + +LAURA. Well? + +ELFIE. You won't get sore again if I tell you, will you? + +LAURA. No--why? [_Rises_. + +ELFIE. He's downstairs--waiting in the car. I promised to tell him +what you said. + +LAURA. Then it was all planned, and--and-- + +ELFIE. Now, dearie, I knew you were up against it, and I wanted to +bring you two together. He's got half of the Burgess shows, and if +you'll only see him everything will be fixed. + +LAURA. When does he want to see me? + +ELFIE. Now. + +LAURA. Here? + +ELFIE. Yes. Shall I tell him to come up? + +LAURA. [_After a long pause, crossing around to bed, down-stage +side_.] Yes. + +ELFIE. [_Suddenly becomes animated_.] Now you're a sensible dear. I'll +bet he's half frozen down there. [_Goes to door_.] I'll send him up. +Look at you, Laura, you're a sight. [_Crosses to_ LAURA, _takes her +by hand, leads her up to washstand, takes towel and wipes_ LAURA'S +_eyes_.] It'll never do to have him see you looking like this; come +over here and let me fix your eyes. Now, Laura, I want you to promise +me you won't do any more crying. [_Leads_ LAURA _over to dresser, +takes powder-puff and powders_ LAURA'S _face_.] Come over here and let +me powder your nose. Now when he comes up you tell him he has got to +blow us all off to a dinner to-night at Martin's, seven-thirty. Let me +look at you. Now you're all right. [_After daubing_ LAURA'S _face with +the rouge paw_, ELFIE _takes_ LAURA'S _face in her hands and kisses +her_.] Make it strong now, seven-thirty, don't forget. I'll be there. +[_Crosses to armchair, gathers up muff, &c_.] So long. + +[_Exit_. + +_After_ ELFIE'S _exit_ LAURA _crosses slowly to wardrobe, pulls off +picture of_ JOHN; _crosses to dresser, takes picture of_ JOHN _from +there; carries both pictures over to bed; kneels on bed, pulls down +picture at head of bed; places all three pictures under pillow_. WILL +_is heard coming upstairs, and knocks_. + +LAURA. Come in. + +WILL _enters. His dress is that of a man of business, the time being +about February. He is well groomed and brings with him the impression +of easy luxury_. + +WILL. [_As he enters_.] Hello, Laura. + +_There is an obvious embarrassment on the part of each of them. She +rises, goes to him and extends her hand_. + +LAURA. I'm--I'm glad to see you, Will. + +WILL. Thank you. + +LAURA. Won't you sit down? + +WILL. [_Regaining his ease of manner_.] Thank you again. + +[_Puts hat and cane at end of wardrobe; removes overcoat and places it +on back of armchair; sits in armchair_. + +LAURA. [_Sits right of table_.] It's rather cold out, isn't it? + +WILL. Just a bit sharp. + +LAURA. You came with Elfie in the car? + +WILL. She picked me up at Martin's; we lunched there. + +LAURA. By appointment? + +WILL. I'd asked her. + +LAURA. Well? + +WILL. Well, Laura. + +LAURA. She told you? + +WILL. Not a great deal. What do you want to tell me? + +LAURA. [_Very simply, and avoiding his glance_.] Will, I'm ready to +come back. + +WILL. [_With an effort concealing his sense of triumph and +satisfaction. Rises, crosses to_ LAURA.] I'm mighty glad of that, +Laura. I've missed you like the very devil. + +LAURA. Do we--do we have to talk it over much? + +[_Crosses to left of table in front of bed_. + +WILL. Not at all unless you want to. I understand--in fact, I always +have. + +LAURA. [_Wearily_.] Yes, I guess you always did. I didn't. + +[_Crosses and sits right of table_. + +WILL. It will be just the same as it was before, you know. + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. I didn't think it was possible for me to miss anyone the way I +have you. I've been lonely. + +LAURA. That's nice in you to say that. + +WILL. You'll have to move out of here right away. [_Crossing to back +of table, surveying room_.] This place is enough to give one the +colly-wabbles. If you'll be ready to-morrow I'll send my man over to +help you take care of the luggage. + +LAURA. To-morrow will be all right, thank you. + +WILL. And you'll need some money in the meantime. I'll leave this +here. + +[_He takes a roll of bills and places it on the bureau_. + +LAURA. You seem to have come prepared. Did Elfie and you plan this all +out? + +WILL. Not planned--just hoped. I think you'd better go to some nice +hotel now. Later we can arrange. + +[_Sits on up-stage side of bed_. + +LAURA. Will, we'll always be frank. I said I was ready to go. It's up +to you--when and where. + +WILL. The hotel scheme is the best, but, Laura-- + +LAURA. Yes? + +WILL. You're quite sure this is in earnest. You don't want to change? +You've time enough now. + +LAURA. I've quite made up my mind. It's final. + +WILL. If you want to work, Burgess has a nice part for you. I'll +telephone and arrange if you say so. + +LAURA. Thanks. Say I'll see him in the morning. + +WILL. And, Laura, you know when we were in Denver, and-- + +LAURA. [_Rises hurriedly; crosses right_.] Please, please, don't speak +of it. + +WILL. I'm sorry, but I've got to. I told [_Rises, and crosses to +left_.] Madison [LAURA _turns her head_.]--pardon me, but I must do +this--that if this time ever came I'd have you write him the truth. +Before we go any further I'd like you to do that now. + +LAURA. Say good-bye? [_Turns to_ WILL. + +WILL. Just that. + +LAURA. I wouldn't know how to begin. It will hurt him awfully deeply. + +WILL. It'll be worse if you don't. He'll like you for telling him. It +would be honest, and that is what he expects. + +LAURA. Must I--now? + +WILL. I think you should. + +LAURA. [_Goes to table and sits down_.] How shall I begin, Will? + +WILL. [_Standing back of table_.] You mean you don't know what to say? + +LAURA. Yes. + +WILL. Then I'll dictate. + +LAURA. I'll do just as you say. You're the one to tell me now. + +WILL. Address it the way you want to. [_She complies_.] I'm going to +be pretty brutal. In the long run I think that is best, don't you? + +LAURA. It's up to you. + +WILL. Ready? + +LAURA. Begin. + +WILL. [_Dictating_.] "All I have to say can be expressed in one word, +'good-bye.' I shall not tell you where I've gone, but remind you +of what Brockton told you the last time he saw you. He is here now +[_Pause_.], dictating this letter. What I am doing is voluntary--my +own suggestion. Don't grieve. Be happy and successful. I do not love +you"-- + +[_She puts pen down; looks at him_. + +LAURA. Will--please. + +WILL. It has got to go just that way--"I do not love you." Sign +it "Laura." [_She does it_.] Fold it, put it in an envelope--seal +it--address it. Now shall I mail it? + +LAURA. No. If you don't mind I'd sooner. It's a sort of a last--last +message. + +WILL. [_Crosses to armchair; gets coat, puts it on_.] All right. +You're a little upset now, and I'm going. We are all to dine at +Martin's to-night at seven-thirty. There'll be a party. Of course +you'll come. [_Gets hat and cane_. + +LAURA. I don't think I can. You see-- + +WILL. I know. I guess there's enough there [_Indicating money_.] for +your immediate needs. Later you can straighten things up. Shall I send +the car? + +LAURA. Yes, please. + +WILL. Good. It will be the first happy evening I've had in a long, +long time. You'll be ready? + +[_Approaches and bends over her as if to caress her_. + +LAURA. [_Shrinking away_.] Please don't. Remember we don't dine until +seven-thirty. + +WILL. All right. [_Exit_. + +_For a moment_ LAURA _sits silent, and then angrily rises, crosses +up to dresser, gets alcohol lamp, crosses to table with lamp, lights +same, and starts back to dresser. Knock at door_. + +LAURA. Come in. [ANNIE _enters, and stops_.] That you, Annie? + +ANNIE. Yassum. + +LAURA. Mrs. Farley wants her rent. There is some money. [_Tosses money +on to table_.] Take it to her. + +ANNIE _goes to the table, examines the roll of bills and is palpably +surprised_. + +ANNIE. Dey ain't nothin' heah, Miss Laura, but five great big one +hunderd dollah bills. + +LAURA. Take two. And look in that upper drawer. You'll find some pawn +tickets there. [ANNIE _complies_. + +ANNIE. Yassum. [_Aside_.] Dat's real money--dem's yellow-backs sure. + +LAURA. Take the two top ones and go get my lace gown and one of +the hats. The ticket is for a hundred and ten dollars. Keep ten for +yourself, and hurry. + +ANNIE. [_Aside_.] Ten for myself--I never see so much money. [_To_ +LAURA, _her astonishment nearly overcoming her_.] Yassum, Miss Laura, +yassum. [_She goes toward door, and then turns to_ LAURA.] Ah'm so +mighty glad yo' out all yo' trouble, Miss Laura. I says to Mis' Farley +now-- + +LAURA. [_Snapping her off_.] Don't--don't. Go do as I tell you and +mind your business. [ANNIE _turns sullenly and walks toward the door. +At that moment_ LAURA _sees the letter, which she has thrown on the +table_.] Wait a minute. I want you to mail a letter. [_By this time +her hair is half down, hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her waist +is open at the throat, collar off, and she has the appearance of a +woman's untidiness when she is at that particular stage of her toilet. +Hands letter to_ ANNIE, _but snatches it away as_ ANNIE _turns to +go. She glances at the letter long and wistfully, and her nerve fails +her_.] Never mind. + +ANNIE _exits. Slowly_ LAURA _puts the letter over the flame of the +alcohol lamp and it ignites. As it burns she holds it in her fingers, +and when half consumed throws it into waste-jar, sits on side of bed +watching letter burn, then lies down across bed on her elbows, her +chin in her hands, facing audience. As the last flicker is seen the +curtain slowly descends_. + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III. + + +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 +portieres, 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 portieres 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 portiere 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 +negligee 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 portieres. 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 _reenters 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 negligee 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 portieres._ + +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. + + + + +ACT IV. + + +SCENE. _The same scene as Act III. It is about two o'clock in the +afternoon._ + +AT RISE. _When the curtain rises, there are two big trunks and one +small one up stage. These are marked in the usual theatrical fashion. +There are grips packed, umbrellas, and the usual paraphernalia that +accompanies a woman when she is making a permanent departure from +her place of living. All the bric-a-brac, &c., has been removed +from dresser. On down-stage end of dresser is a small alligator +bag containing night-dress, toilet articles, and bunch of keys. +The dresser drawers are some of them half open, and old pieces of +tissue-paper and ribbons are hanging out. The writing-desk has had all +materials removed and is open, showing scraps of torn-up letters, and +in one pigeon-hole is a New York Central time-table; between desk and +bay-window is a lady's hat-trunk containing huge picture hat. It is +closed. Behind table is a suit-case with which_ ANNIE _is working when +curtain rises. Under desk are two old millinery boxes, around which +are scattered old tissue-paper, a pair of old slippers, a woman's +shabby hat, old ribbon, &c. In front of window at end of pianola is +thrown a lot of old empty boxes, such as are used for stocking and +shirtwaist boxes. The picture-frame and basket of flowers have been +removed from pianola. The stool is on top of pianola, upside down. +There is an empty White Rock bottle, with glass turned over it, +standing between the legs of the stool. The big trunk is in front +of sofa, and packed, and it has a swing tray under which is packed a +fancy evening gown; the lid is down. On top of lid are an umbrella, +lady's travelling-coat, hat and gloves. On left end of sofa are a +large Gladstone bag, packed and fastened, a smaller trunk (thirty-four +inch), tray with lid. In tray are articles of wearing apparel. In +end of tray is revolver wrapped in tissue-paper. Trunk is closed, and +supposed to be locked. Tossed across left arm of armchair are couple +of violet cords. Down stage centre is a large piece of wide tan +ribbon. The room has the general appearance of having been stripped of +all personal belongings. There are old magazines and tissue-paper +all over the place. A bearskin rug is thrown up against table in low +window, the furniture is all on stage as used in Act III. At rise_ +LAURA _is sitting on trunk with clock in hand._ ANNIE _is on floor +behind table, fastening suit-case._ LAURA _is pale and perturbed._ + +ANNIE. Ain't yuh goin' to let me come to yuh at all, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. I don't know yet, Annie. I don't even know what the place is +like that we're going to. Mr. Madison hasn't said much. There hasn't +been time. + +ANNIE. Why, Ah've done ma best for yuh, Miss Laura, yes, Ah have. Ah +jest been with yuh ev'ry moment of ma time, an' [_Places suit-case on +table; crosses to centre._] Ah worked for yuh an' Ah loved yuh, an' Ah +doan' wan' to be left 'ere all alone in dis town 'ere New York. [LAURA +_turns to door;_ ANNIE _stoops, grabs up ribbon, hides it behind her +back._] Ah ain't the kind of cullud lady knows many people. Can't yuh +take me along wid yuh, Miss Laura?--yuh all been so good to me. + +LAURA. Why, I told you to [_Crosses to door, looks out, returns +disappointed._] stay here and get your things together [ANNIE _hides +ribbon in front of her waist._], and then Mr. Brockton will probably +want you to do something. Later, I think he'll have you pack up, just +as soon as he finds I'm gone. I've got the address that you gave me. +I'll let you know if you can come on. + +ANNIE. [_Suddenly._] Ain't yuh goin' to give me anything at all jes' +to remembuh yuh by? Ah've been so honest-- + +LAURA. Honest? + +ANNIE. Honest, Ah have. + +LAURA. You've been about as honest as most coloured [_Crosses to +table; gets suit-case; crosses to sofa end puts suit-case on it._] +girls are who work for women in the position that I am in. You haven't +stolen enough to make me discharge you, but I've seen what you've +taken. [_Sits on end of sofa facing left._ + +ANNIE. Now, Miss Laura. + +LAURA. Don't try to fool me. What you've got you're welcome to, but +for heaven's sake don't prate around here about loyalty and honesty. +I'm sick of it. + +ANNIE. Ain't yuh goin' to give me no recommendation? + +LAURA. [_Impatiently looking around the room._] What good would my +recommendation do? You can always go and get another position with +people who've lived the way I've lived, and my recommendation to the +other kind wouldn't amount to much. + +ANNIE. [_Sits on trunk._] Ah can just see whah Ah'm goin',--back to +dat boa'din'-house in 38th Street fo' me. [_Crying._ + +LAURA. Now shut your noise. I don't want to hear any more. I've given +you twenty-five dollars for a present. I think that's enough. + +[ANNIE _assumes a most aggrieved appearance._ + +ANNIE. Ah know, but twenty-five dollars ain't a home, and I'm [_Rises, +crosses to rubbish heap, picks up old slippers and hat, puts hat on +head as she goes out, looks into pier-glass._] losin' my home. Dat's +jest my luck--every time I save enough money to buy my weddin' clothes +to get married I lose my job. + +[_Exit._ + +LAURA. I wonder where John is. We'll never be able to make that train. +[_She crosses to window, then to desk, takes out time-table, crosses +to armchair and spreads time-table on back, studies it, crosses +impatiently to trunk, and sits nervously kicking her feet. After a few +seconds' pause the bell rings. She jumps up excitedly._] That must be +he,--Annie--go quick. [ANNIE _crosses and opens the door in the usual +manner._ + +JIM'S VOICE. [_Outside._] Is Miss Murdock in? + +ANNIE. Yassuh, she's in. + +LAURA _is up stage and turns to receive visitor._ JIM _enters. He is +nicely dressed in black and has an appearance of prosperity about him, +but in other respects he retains the old drollness of enunciation +and manner. He crosses to_ LAURA _in a cordial way and holds out his +hand._ ANNIE _crosses, after closing the door, and exits through the +portieres into the sleeping-apartment._ + +JIM. How-dy-do, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. Jim Western, I'm mighty glad to see you. + +JIM. Looks like as if you were going to move? + +LAURA. Yes, I am going to move, and a long ways, too. How well you're +looking,--as fit as a fiddle. + +JIM. Yes; I am feelin' fine. Where yer goin'? Troupin'? + +LAURA. No, indeed. + +JIM. [_Surveying the baggage._] Thought not. What's comin' off now? +[_Takes off coat, puts coat and hat on trunk._ + +LAURA. [_Very simply._] I'm going to be married this afternoon. + +JIM. Married? + +LAURA. And then I'm going West. + +JIM. [_Leaving the trunk, walking toward her and holding out his +hands._] Now I'm just glad to hear that. Ye know when I heard how--how +things was breakin' for ye--well, I ain't knockin' or anythin' like +that, but me and the missis have talked ye over a lot. I never did +think this feller was goin' to do the right thing by yer. Brockton +never looked to me like a fellow would marry anybody, but now that +he's goin' through just to make you a nice, respectable wife, I guess +everything must have happened for the best. [LAURA _averts her eyes. +Both sit on trunk,_ JIM _left of_ LAURA.] Y' see I wanted to thank you +for what you did a couple of weeks ago. Burgess wrote me a letter and +told me I could go ahead of one of his big shows if I wanted to come +back, and offering me considerable money. He mentioned your name, Miss +Laura, and I talked it over with the missis, and--well, I can tell ye +now when I couldn't if ye weren't to be hooked up--we decided that I +wouldn't take that job, comin' as it did from you [_Slowly._] and the +way I knew it was framed up. + +LAURA. Why not? + +JIM. [_Embarrassed._] Well, ye see, there are three kids and they're +all growing up, all of them in school, and the missis, she's just +about forgot show business and she's playing a star part in the +kitchen, juggling dishes and doing flip-flaps with pancakes; and we +figgered that as we'd always gone along kinder clean-like, it wouldn't +be good for the kids to take a job comin' from Brockton because +you--you--well--you-- + +LAURA. I know. [_Rises; sits on left arm of chair._] You thought it +wasn't decent. Is that it? + +JIM. Oh, not exactly, only--well, you see I'm gettin' along pretty +[_Rises; crosses to_ LAURA.] good now. I got a little one-night-stand +theatre out in Ohio--manager of it, too. The town is called +Gallipolis. [_With a smile._ + +LAURA. Gallipolis? + +JIM. Oh, that ain't a disease. It is the name of a town. Maybe you +don't know much about Gallipolis, or where it is. + +LAURA. No. + +JIM. Well, it looks just like it sounds. We got a little house, and +the old lady is happy, and I feel so good that I can even stand her +cookin'. Of course we ain't makin' much money, but I guess I'm gettin' +a little old-fashioned around theatres anyway. The fellows from +newspapers and colleges have got it on me. Last time I asked a man for +a job he asked me what I knew about the Greek drama, and when I told +him I didn't know the Greeks had a theatre in New York he slipped me +a laugh and told me to come in again on some rainy Tuesday. Then +Gallipolis showed on the map, and I beat it for the West. [JIM +_notices by this time the pain he has caused_ LAURA, _and is +embarrassed._] Sorry if I hurt ye--didn't mean to; and now that yer +goin' to be Mrs. Brockton, well, I take back all I said, and, while +I don't think I want to change my position, I wouldn't turn it down +for--for that other reason, that's all. + +LAURA. [_With a tone of defiance in her voice._] But, Mr. Weston, I'm +not going to be Mrs. Brockton. + +JIM. No? [_Crosses left a little._ + +LAURA. No. + +JIM. Oh--oh-- + +LAURA. I'm going to marry another man, and a good man. + +JIM. The hell you are! + +[LAURA _rises and puts hand on_ JIM'S _shoulder._ + +LAURA. And it's going to be altogether different. I know what you +meant when you said about the missis and the kids, and that's what I +want--just a little home, just a little peace, just a little comfort, +and--and the man has come who's going to give it to me. You don't want +me to say any more, do you? + +[_Crosses to door, opens it, and looks out; closes it and crosses to_ +JIM. + +JIM. [_Emphatically, and with a tone of hearty approval._] No, I +don't, and now I'm just going to put my mit out and shake yours and +be real glad. I want to tell ye it's the only way to go along. I +ain't never been a rival to Rockefeller, nor I ain't never made Morgan +jealous, but since the day my old woman took her make-up off for the +last time, and walked out of that stage-door to give me a little help +and bring my kids into the world, I knew that was the way to go along; +and if you're goin' to take that road, by Jiminy, I'm glad of it, for +you sure do deserve it. I wish yer luck. + +LAURA. Thank you. + +JIM. I'm mighty glad you side-stepped Brockton. You're young [LAURA +_sits on trunk._], and you're pretty, and you're sweet, and if you've +got the right kind of a feller there ain't no reason on earth why you +shouldn't jest forgit the whole business and see nothin' but laughs +and a good time comin' to you, and the sun sort o' shinin' every +twenty-four hours in the day. You know the missis feels just as if she +knew you, after I told her about them hard times we had at Farley's +boarding-house, so I feel that it's paid me to come to New York +[_Picks up pin; puts it in lapel of coat._] even if I didn't book +anything but "East Lynne" and "Uncle Tom's Cabin." [_Goes over to +her._] Now I'm goin'. Don't forget Gallipolis's [LAURA _helps him on +with his coat._] the name, and sometimes the mail does get there. I'd +be awful glad if you wrote the missis a little note tellin' us how +you're gettin' along, and if you ever have to ride on the Kanawha and +Michigan, just look out of the window when the train passes our town, +because that is about the best you'll get. + +LAURA. Why? + +JIM. They only stop there on signal. And make up your mind that the +Weston family is with you forty ways from the Jack day and night. +Good-bye, and God bless you. + +LAURA. Good-bye, Jim. I'm so glad to know you're happy, for it is good +to be happy. [_Kisses him._ + +JIM. You bet. [_Moves toward the door. She follows him after they have +shaken hands._] Never mind, I can get out all right. [_Opens the door, +and at the door:_] Good-bye again. + +LAURA. [_Very softly._] Good-bye. [_Exit_ JIM _and closes the door. +She stands motionless until she hears the outer door slam._] I wonder +why he doesn't come. [_She goes up and looks out of the window and +turns down stage, crosses right, counting trunks; as she counts +suitcase on table, bell rings; she crosses hurriedly to trunk +centre._] Hurry, Annie, and see who that is. + +ANNIE _enters, crosses, opens door, exits, and opens the outer door._ + +ANNIE'S VOICE. She's waitin' for yer, Mr. Madison. + +LAURA _hurries down to the centre of stage._ JOHN _enters, hat in +hand and his overcoat on arm, followed by_ ANNIE. _He stops just as +he enters and looks at_ LAURA _long and searchingly._ LAURA +_instinctively feels that something has happened. She shudders and +remains firm._ ANNIE _crosses and exits. Closes doors._ + +LAURA. [_With a little effort._ JOHN _places hat and coat on trunk._] +Aren't you a little late, dear? + +JOHN. I--I was detained down town a few minutes. I think that we can +carry out our plan all right. + +LAURA. [_After a pause._] Has anything happened? + +JOHN. I've made all the arrangements. The men will be here in a few +minutes for your trunks. [_Crosses to coat; feels in pocket._] I've +got the railroad tickets and everything else, but-- + +LAURA. But what, John? + +_He goes over to her. She intuitively understands that she is about +to go through an ordeal. She seems to feel that_ JOHN _has become +acquainted with something which might interfere with their plan. He +looks at her long and searchingly. Evidently he too is much wrought +up, but when he speaks to her it is with a calm dignity and force +which show the character of the man._ + +JOHN. Laura. + +LAURA. Yes? + +JOHN. You know when I went down town I said I was going to call on two +or three of my friends in Park Row. + +LAURA. I know. + +JOHN. I told them who I was going to marry. + +LAURA. Well? + +JOHN. They said something about you and Brockton, and I found that +they'd said too much, but not quite enough. + +LAURA. What did they say? + +JOHN. Just that--too much and not quite enough. There's a minister +waiting for us over on Madison Avenue. You see, then you'll be my +wife. That's pretty serious business, and all I want now from you is +the truth. + +LAURA. Well? + +JOHN. Just tell me that what they said was just an echo of the +past--that it came from what had been going on before that wonderful +day out in Colorado. Tell me that you've been on the level. I don't +want their word, Laura--I just want yours. + +LAURA _summons all her courage, looks up into his loving eyes, shrinks +a moment before his anxious face, and speaks as simply as she can._ + +LAURA. Yes, John, I have been on the level. + +JOHN. [_Very tenderly._] I knew that, dear, I knew it. [_He takes her +in his arms and kisses her. She clings to him in pitiful helplessness. +His manner is changed to one of almost boyish happiness._] Well, now +everything's all ready, let's get on the job. We haven't a great deal +of time. Get your duds on. + +LAURA. When do we go? + +JOHN. Right away. The great idea is to get away. + +LAURA. All right. + +[_Gets hat off trunk, crosses to bureau, puts it on._ + +JOHN. Laura, you've got trunks enough, haven't you? One might think +we're moving a whole colony. [_Turns to her with a smile._] And, by +the way, to me you are a whole colony--anyway you're the only one I +ever wanted to settle with. + +LAURA. That's good. [_Takes bag off bureau, crosses to trunk, gets +purse, coat, umbrella, as if ready to leave. She hurriedly gathers her +things together, adjusting her hat and the like, and almost to herself +in a low tone:_] I'm so excited. [_Continues preparations._] Come on. + +_In the meantime_ JOHN _crosses by to get his hat and coat, and while +the preparations are about to be completed and_ LAURA _has said "Come +on," she is transfixed by the noise of the slamming of the outer door. +She stops as if she had been tremendously shocked, and a moment later +the rattling of a latch-key in the inner door also stops_ JOHN _from +going any further. His coat is half on._ LAURA _looks toward the door, +paralyzed with fright, and_ JOHN _looks at her with an expression of +great apprehension. Slowly the door opens, and_ BROCKTON _enters with +coat and hat on. As he turns to close the door after him,_ LAURA, +_pitifully and terribly afraid, retreats two or three steps, and +lays coat, bag, purse and umbrella down in armchair, standing dazed._ +BROCKTON _enters leisurely, paying no attention to anyone, while_ JOHN +_becomes as rigid as a statue, and follows with his eyes every move_ +BROCKTON _makes. The latter walks leisurely across the stage, and +afterwards into the rooms through the portieres. There is a wait of +a second. No one moves._ BROCKTON _finally reenters with coat and hat +off, and throws back the portieres in such a manner as to reveal the +bed and his intimate familiarity with the outer room. He goes down +stage in the same leisurely manner and sits in a chair opposite_ JOHN, +_crossing his legs._ + +WILL. Hello, Madison, when did you get in? + +_Slowly_ JOHN _seems to recover himself. His right hand starts up +toward the lapel of his coat and slowly he pulls his Colt revolver +from the holster under his armpit. There is a deadly determination and +deliberation in every movement that he makes._ WILL _jumps to his feet +and looks at him. The revolver is uplifted in the air, as a Western +man handles a gun, so that when it is snapped down with a jerk the +deadly shot can be fired._ LAURA _is terror-stricken, but before +the shot is fired she takes a step forward and extends one hand in a +gesture of entreaty._ + +LAURA. [_In a husky voice that is almost a whisper._] Don't shoot. + +_The gun remains uplifted for a moment._ JOHN _is evidently wavering +in his determination to kill. Slowly his whole frame relaxes. He +lowers the pistol in his hand in a manner which clearly indicates that +he is not going to shoot. He quietly puts it back in the holster, and_ +WILL _is obviously relieved, although he stood his ground like a man._ + +JOHN. [_Slowly._] Thank you. You said that just in time. + +[_A pause._ + +WILL. [_Recovering and in a light tone._] Well, you see, Madison, that +what I said when I was-- + +JOHN. [_Threateningly._] Look out, Brockton, I don't want to talk to +you. [_The men confront._ + +WILL. All right. + +JOHN. [_To_ LAURA.] Now get that man out of here. + +LAURA. John, I-- + +JOHN. Get him out. Get him out before I lose my temper or they'll take +him out without his help. + +LAURA. [_To_ WILL.] Go--go. Please go. + +WILL. [_Deliberately._] If that's the way you want it, I'm willing. + +_Exit_ WILL _into the sleeping-apartment._ LAURA _and_ JOHN _stand +facing each other. He enters again with hat and coat on, and passes +over toward the door._ LAURA _and_ JOHN _do not move. When he gets +just a little to the left of the centre of the stage_ LAURA _steps +forward and stops him with her speech._ + +LAURA. Now before you go, and to you both, I want to tell you how I've +learned to despise him. John, I know you don't believe me, but it's +true--it's true. I don't love anyone in the world but just you. I +know you don't think that it can be explained--maybe there isn't any +explanation. I couldn't help it. I was so poor, and I had to live, and +he wouldn't let me work, and he's only let me live one way, and I +was hungry. Do you know what that means? I was hungry and didn't have +clothes to keep me warm, and I tried, oh, John, I tried so hard to do +the other thing,--the right thing,--but I couldn't. + +JOHN. I--I know I couldn't help much, and perhaps I could have +forgiven you if you hadn't lied to me. That's what hurt. [_Turning to_ +WILL _and approaching until he can look him in the eyes._] I expected +you to lie, you're that kind of a man. You left me with a shake of the +hand, and you gave me your word, and you didn't keep it. Why should +you keep it? Why should anything make any difference with you? Why, +you pup, you've no right to live in the same world with decent folks. +Now you make yourself scarce, or take it from me, I'll just kill you, +that's all. + +WILL. I'll leave, Madison, but I'm not going to let you think that I +didn't do the right thing with you. She came to me voluntarily. She +said she wanted to come back. I told you that, when I was in Colorado, +and you didn't believe me, and I told you that when she did this sort +of thing I'd let you know. I dictated a letter to her to send to you, +and I left it sealed and stamped in her hands to mail. She didn't do +it. If there's been a lie, she told it. I didn't. + +JOHN _turns to her. She hangs her head and averts her eyes in a mute +acknowledgment of guilt. The revelation hits_ JOHN _so hard that +he sinks on the trunk centre, his head fallen to his breast. He is +utterly limp and whipped. There is a moment's silence._ + +WILL. [_Crosses to_ JOHN.] You see! Why, my boy, whatever you think +of me or the life I lead, I wouldn't have had this come to you for +anything in the world. [JOHN _makes an impatient gesture._] No, I +wouldn't. My women don't mean a whole lot to me because I don't take +them seriously. I wish I had the faith and the youth to feel the way +you do. You're all in and broken up, but I wish I could be broken +up just once. I did what I thought was best for you because I didn't +think she could ever go through the way you wanted her to. I'm sorry +it's all turned out bad. [_Pause._] Good-bye. + +_He looks at_ JOHN _for a moment as if he was going to speak._ JOHN +_remains motionless. The blow has hit him harder than he thought._ +WILL _exits. The first door closes. In a moment the second door is +slammed._ JOHN _and_ LAURA _look at each other for a moment. He gives +her no chance to speak. The hurt in his heart and his accusation are +shown by his broken manner. A great grief has come into his life and +he doesn't quite understand it. He seems to be feeling around for +something to say, some way to get out. His head turns toward the door. +With a pitiful gesture of the hand he looks at her in all his sorrow._ + +JOHN. Well? [_Rises._ + +LAURA. John, I--[_Takes off hat and places it on table._ + +JOHN. I'd be careful what I said. Don't try to make excuses. I +understand. + +LAURA. It's not excuses. I want to tell you what's in my heart, but I +can't; it won't speak, and you don't believe my voice. + +JOHN. You'd better leave it unsaid. + +LAURA. But I must tell. I can't let you go like this. [_She goes over +to him and makes a weak attempt to put her arms around him. He takes +her arms and puts them back to her side._] I love you. I--how can I +tell you--but I do, I do, and you won't believe me. + +_He remains silent for a moment and then takes her by the hand, leads +her over to the chair and places her in it._ + +JOHN. I think you do as far as you are able; but, Laura, I guess you +don't know what a decent sentiment is. [_He gathers himself together. +His tone is very gentle and very firm, but it carries a tremendous +conviction, even with his grief ringing through his speech._] Laura, +you're not immoral, you're just unmoral, kind o' all out of shape, and +I'm afraid there isn't a particle of hope for you. When we met neither +of us had any reason to be proud, but I thought that you thought that +it was the chance of salvation which sometimes comes to a man and a +woman fixed as we were then. What had been had been. It was all in the +great to-be for us, and now, how you've kept your word! What little +that promise meant, when I thought you handed me a new lease of life! + +LAURA. [_In a voice that is changed and metallic. She is literally +being nailed to the cross._] You're killing me--killing me. + +JOHN. Don't make such a mistake. In a month you'll recover. There will +be days when you will think of me, just for a moment, and then it +will be all over. With you it is the easy way, and it always will be. +You'll go on and on until you're finally left a wreck, just the type +of the common woman. And you'll sink until you're down to the very +bed-rock of depravity. I pity you. + +LAURA. [_Still in the same metallic tone of voice._] You'll never +leave me to do that. I'll kill myself. + +JOHN. Perhaps that's the only thing left for you to do, but you'll not +do it. It's easier to live. [_Crosses, gets hat and coat, turns and +looks at her,_ LAURA _rising at the same time._ + +LAURA. John, I said I'd kill myself, and I mean it. If it's the only +thing to do, I'll do it, and I'll do it before your very eyes. [_She +crosses quickly, gets keys out of satchel, opens trunk, takes gun out +of trunk, stands facing_ JOHN--_waiting a moment._] You understand +that when your hand touches that door I'm going to shoot myself. I +will, so help me God! + +JOHN. [_Stops and looks at her._] Kill yourself? [_Pause._] Before me? +[_Pause._] All right. [_Raising his voice._] Annie, Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Enters._] Yes, sir. + +JOHN. [LAURA _looks at_ JOHN _in bewilderment._] You see your mistress +there has a pistol in her hand? + +ANNIE. [_Frightened._] Yassuh-- + +JOHN. She wants to kill herself. I just called you to witness that the +act is entirely voluntary on her part. Now, Laura, go ahead. + +LAURA. [_Nearly collapsing, drops the pistol to the floor._] John, +I--can't-- + +JOHN. Annie, she's evidently changed her mind. You may go. + +ANNIE. But, Miss Laura, Ah-- + +JOHN. [_Peremptorily._] You may go. [_Bewildered and not +understanding,_ ANNIE _exits through the portieres. In that same +gentle tone, but carrying with it an almost frigid conviction._] You +didn't have the nerve. I knew you wouldn't. For a moment you thought +the only decent thing for you to do was to die, and yet you couldn't +go through. I am sorry for you,--more sorry than I can tell. [_He +takes a step towards the door._ + +LAURA. You're going--you're going? + +JOHN. Yes. + +LAURA. And--and--you never thought that perhaps I'm frail, and weak, +and a woman, and that now, maybe, I need your strength, and you might +give it to me, and it might be better. I want to lean on you,--lean +on you, John. I know I need someone. Aren't you going to let me? Won't +you give me another chance? + +JOHN. I gave you your chance, Laura. + +LAURA. [_Throws arms around his neck._] Give me another. + +JOHN. But you leaned the wrong way. Good-bye. + +[_He pulls away and goes out, slamming both doors._ + +LAURA. [_Screaming._] John--John--I--[_She sits on trunk, weeping in +loud and tearful manner; rises in a dazed fashion, starts to cross, +sees gun, utters loud cry of mingled despair and anger, grabs up gun, +crossing to bureau, opens up-stage drawer, throws gun in, slams drawer +shut, calling:_] Annie! Annie! + +ANNIE. [_Appears through the portieres._] Ain't yuh goin' away, Miss +Laura? + +LAURA. [_Suddenly arousing herself, and with a defiant voice._] No, +I'm not. I'm going to stay right here. [ANNIE _crosses and opens +trunk, takes out handsome dress, hangs it over back of armchair, +crosses up to hat-trunk, takes out hat._ LAURA _takes it from her, +crosses to trunk left, starts to unpack it._] Open these trunks, take +out those clothes, get me my prettiest dress. Hurry up. [_She goes +before the mirror._] Get my new hat, dress up my body and paint up my +face. It's all they've left of me. [_To herself._] They've taken my +soul away with them. + +ANNIE. [_In a happy voice._] Yassum, yassum. + +LAURA. [_Who is arranging her hair._] Doll me up, Annie. + +ANNIE. Yuh goin' out, Miss Laura? + +LAURA. Yes. I'm going to Rector's to make a hit, and to hell with the +rest! + +_At this moment the hurdy-gurdy in the street, presumably immediately +under her window, begins to play the tune of "Bon-Bon Buddie, My +Chocolate Drop." There is something in this ragtime melody which +is particularly and peculiarly suggestive of the low life, the +criminality and prostitution that constitute the night excitement of +that section of New York City known as the Tenderloin. The tune,--its +association,--is like spreading before_ LAURA'S _eyes a panorama of +the inevitable depravity that awaits her. She is torn from every ideal +that she so weakly endeavoured to grasp, and is thrown into the +mire and slime at the very moment when her emancipation seems to be +assured. The woman, with her flashy dress in one arm and her equally +exaggerated type of picture hat in the other, is nearly prostrated +by the tune and the realization of the future as it is terrifically +conveyed to her. The negress, in the happiness of serving_ LAURA +_in her questionable career, picks up the melody and hums it as she +unpacks the finery that has been put away in the trunk._ + +LAURA. [_With infinite grief, resignation, and hopelessness._] +O God--O my God. [_She turns and totters toward the bedroom. The +hurdy-gurdy continues, with the negress accompanying it._ + +A SLOW CURTAIN. + + +END OF THE PLAY. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Easiest Way, by Eugene Walter + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EASIEST WAY *** + +***** This file should be named 13050.txt or 13050.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/0/5/13050/ + +Produced by David Starner, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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