diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 01:53:20 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 01:53:20 -0700 |
| commit | 04a30410314477ad8d16f335e5997f1eb2cdc6c6 (patch) | |
| tree | cf5395a839dde276e85da409dd03a368d966f13b /22638.txt | |
Diffstat (limited to '22638.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 22638.txt | 4450 |
1 files changed, 4450 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/22638.txt b/22638.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..feb47f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/22638.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4450 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Straw, by Eugene O'Neill + +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 Straw + +Author: Eugene O'Neill + +Release Date: September 16, 2007 [EBook #22638] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRAW *** + + + + +Produced by Martin Agren and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +The Emperor Jones + +_The Straw_, and '_Diff'rent_ + + +Three Plays by + +Eugene O'Neill + + + +Jonathan Cape +Thirty Bedford Square, London + +FIRST PUBLISHED 1922 +REPRINTED IN 1925 +REPRINTED IN 1931 +REPRINTED IN 1935 +REPRINTED IN 1953 +REPRINTED IN 1955 +REPRINTED IN 1958 +REPRINTED IN 1965 + +PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY +BUTLER AND TANNER LTD. FROME AND LONDON +BOUND BY A. W. BAIN AND CO. LTD. + + + + +Characters + + +Bill Carmody +Mary } +Nora } _his children_ +Tom } +Billy } +Doctor Gaynor +Fred Nicholls +Eileen Carmody, _Bill's eldest child_ +Stephen Murray +Miss Howard, _a nurse in training_ +Miss Gilpin, _superintendent of the Infirmary_ +Doctor Stanton, _of the Hill Farm Sanatorium_ +Doctor Simms, _his assistant_ +Mr. Sloan +Peters, _a patient_ +Mrs. Turner, _matron of the Sanatorium_ +Miss Bailey } +Mrs. Abner } _Patients_ +Flynn } +Other Patients of the Sanatorium +Mrs. Brennan + +(_The characters are named in the order in which they appear_) + + + + +Act One + +Scene One: The Kitchen of the Carmody Home--Evening. + +Scene Two: The Reception Room of the Infirmary, Hill Farm +Sanatorium--An Evening a Week Later. + + +Act Two + +Scene One: Assembly Room of the Main Building at the Sanatorium--A +Morning Four Months Later. + +Scene Two: A Crossroads Near the Sanatorium--Midnight of the Same Day. + + +Act Three + +An Isolation Room and Porch at the Sanatorium--An Afternoon Four Months +Later. + + +TIME--1910 + + + + + +The Straw + + + + +Act One + +Act One: Scene One + + + _The kitchen of the Carmody home on the outskirts of a manufacturing + town in Connecticut. On the left, forward, the sink. Farther back, + two windows looking out on the yard. In the left corner, rear, the + icebox. Immediately to the right of it, in the rear wall, a window + opening on the side porch. To the right of this, a china cupboard, + and a door leading into the hall where the main front entrance to + the house and the stairs to the floor above are situated. On the + right, to the rear, a door opening on to the dining room. Further + forward, the kitchen range with scuttle, wood box, etc. In the + centre of the room, a table with a red and white cloth. Four + cane-bottomed chairs are pushed under the table. In front of the + stove, two battered wicker rocking chairs. The floor is partly + covered by linoleum strips. The walls are papered a light cheerful + colour. Several old framed picture-supplement prints hang from + nails. Everything has a clean, neatly-kept appearance. The supper + dishes are piled in the sink ready for washing. A saucepan of water + simmers on the stove._ + + _It is about eight o'clock in the evening of a bitter cold day in + late February of the year 1912._ + + _As the curtain rises,_ Bill Carmody _is discovered fitting in a + rocker by the stove, reading a newspaper and smoking a blackened + clay pipe. He is a man of fifty, heavy-set and round-shouldered, + with long muscular arms and swollen-veined, hairy hands. His face + is bony and ponderous; his nose short and squat; his mouth large, + thick-lipped and harsh; his complexion mottled--red, purple-streaked, + and freckled; his hair, short and stubby with a bald spot on the + crown. The expression of his small, blue eyes is one of selfish + cunning. His voice is loud and hoarse. He wears a flannel shirt, + open at the neck, criss-crossed by red braces; black, baggy + trousers grey with dust; muddy brogues._ + + _His youngest daughter,_ Mary, _is sitting on a chair by the table, + front, turning over the pages of a picture book. She is a delicate, + dark-haired, blue-eyed, quiet little girl about eight years old._ + +CARMODY (_after watching the child's preoccupation for a moment, in a +tone of half exasperated amusement_). Well, but you're the quiet one, +surely! (_Mary looks up at him with a shy smile, her eyes still full of +dreams._) Glory be to God, I'd not know a soul was alive in the room, +barrin' myself. What is it you're at, Mary, that there's not a word out +of you? + +MARY. I'm looking at the pictures. + +CARMODY. It's the dead spit and image of your sister Eileen you are, +with your nose always in a book; and you're like your mother, too, God +rest her soul. (_He crosses himself with pious unction and_ Mary _also +does so._) It's Nora and Tom has the high spirits in them like their +father; and Billy, too,--if he is a lazy, shiftless divil--has the +fightin' Carmody blood like me. You're a Cullen like your mother's +people. They always was dreamin' their lives out. (_He lights his pipe +and shakes his head with ponderous gravity._) There's no good in too +many books, I'll tell you. It's out rompin' and playin' with your +brother and sister you ought to be at your age, not carin' a fig for +books. (_With a glance at the clock._) Is that auld fool of a doctor +stayin' the night? If he had his wits about him he'd know in a jiffy +'tis only a cold has taken Eileen, and give her the medicine. Run out +in the hall, Mary, and see if you hear him. He may have sneaked away by +the front door. + +MARY (_goes out into the hall, rear, and comes back_). He's upstairs. I +heard him talking to Eileen. + +CARMODY. Close the door, ye little divil! There's a freezin' draught +comin' in. (_She does so and comes back to her chair._ Carmody +_continues with a sneer._) It's mad I am to be thinkin' he'd go without +gettin' his money--the like of a doctor! (_Angrily._) Rogues and +thieves they are, the lot of them, robbin' the poor like us! I've no +use for their drugs at all. They only keep you sick to pay more visits. +I'd not have sent for this bucko if Eileen didn't scare me by faintin'. + +MARY (_anxiously_). Is Eileen very sick, Papa? + +CARMODY (_spitting--roughly_). If she is, it's her own fault +entirely--weakenin' her health by readin' here in the house. This'll be +a lesson for her, and for you, too. (_Irritably._) Put down that book +on the table and leave it be. I'll have no more readin' in this house, +or I'll take the strap to you! + +MARY (_laying the book on the table_). It's only pictures. + +CARMODY. No back talk! Pictures or not, it's all the same mopin' and +lazin' in it. (_After a pause--morosely._) It's the bad luck I've been +havin' altogether this last year since your mother died. Who's to do +the work and look after Nora and Tom and yourself, if Eileen is bad +took and has to stay in her bed? I'll have to get Mrs. Brennan come +look after the house. That means money, too, and where's it to come +from? All that I've saved from slavin' and sweatin' in the sun with a +gang of lazy Dagoes'll be up the spout in no time. (_Bitterly._) What a +fool a man is to be raisin' a raft of children and him not a +millionaire! (_With lugubrious self-pity._) Mary, dear, it's a black +curse God put on me when he took your mother just when I needed her +most. (Mary _commences to sob._ Carmody _starts and looks at her +angrily._) What are you sniffin' at? + +MARY (_tearfully_). I was thinking--of Mamma. + +CARMODY (_scornfully_). It's late you are with your tears, and her cold +in her grave for a year. Stop it, I'm tellin' you! (Mary _gulps back +her sobs._) + + (_There is a noise of childish laughter and screams from the + street in front. The outside door is opened and slammed, + footsteps pound along the hall. The door in the rear is pushed + open, and_ Nora _and_ Tom _rush in breathlessly._ Nora _is a + bright, vivacious, red-haired girl of eleven--pretty after an + elfish, mischievous fashion--light-hearted and robust._) + + (Tom _resembles_ Nora _in disposition and appearance. A healthy, + good-humoured youngster with a shock of sandy hair. He is a year + younger than_ Nora. _They are followed into the room, a moment + later, by their brother_ Billy, _who is evidently loftily + disgusted with their antics._ Billy _is a fourteen-year-old + replica of his father, whom he imitates even to the hoarse, + domineering tone of voice._) + +CARMODY (_grumpily_). Ah, here you are, the lot of you. Shut that door +after you! What's the use in me spendin' money for coal if all you do +is to let the cold night in the room itself? + +NORA (_hopping over to him--teasingly_). Me and Tom had a race, Papa. I +beat him. (_She sticks her tongue out at her younger brother._) Slow +poke! + +TOM. You didn't beat me, neither! + +NORA. I did, too! + +TOM. You did not! You didn't play fair. You tripped me comin' up the +steps. Brick-top! Cheater! + +NORA (_flaring up_). You're a liar! You stumbled over your own big +feet, clumsy bones! And I beat you fair Didn't I, Papa? + +CARMODY (_with a grin_). You did, darlin', and fair, too. (Tom _slinks +back to the chair in the rear of table, sulking._ Carmody _pats_ Nora's +_red hair with delighted pride._) Sure it's you can beat the divil +himself! + +NORA (_sticks out her tongue again at_ Tom). See? Liar! (_She goes and +perches on the table near_ Mary, _who is staring sadly in front of +her._) + +CARMODY (_to_ Billy--_irritably_). Did you get the plug for me I told +you? + +BILLY. Sure. (_He takes a plug of tobacco from his pocket and hands it +to his father._ Nora _slides down off her perch and disappears, +unnoticed, under the table._) + +CARMODY. It's a great wonder you didn't forget it--and me without a +chew. (_He bites off a piece and tucks it into his cheek._) + +TOM (_suddenly clutching at his leg with a yell_). Ouch! Darn you! (_He +kicks frantically at something under the table, but_ Nora _scrambles +out at the other end, grinning._) + +CARMODY (_angrily_). Shut your big mouth! What is the matter with you +at all? + +TOM (_indignantly_). She pinched me--hard as she could, too--and look +at her laughin'! + +NORA (_hopping on the table again_). Cry-baby! I owed you one. + +TOM. I'll fix you. I'll tell Eileen, wait 'n' see! + +NORA. Tattle-tale! I don't care. Eileen's sick. + +TOM. That's why you dast do it. You dasn't if she was up. I'll get +even, you bet! + +CARMODY (_exasperated_). Shut up your noise! Go up to bed, the two of +you, and no more talk, and you go with them, Mary. + +NORA (_giving a quick tug at_ Mary's _hair_). Come on, Mary. Wake up. + +MARY. Ow! (_She begins to cry._) + +CARMODY (_raising his voice furiously_). Hush your noise, you soft, +weak thing, you! It's nothin' but blubberin' you do be doin' all the +time. (_He stands up threateningly._) I'll have a moment's peace, I +will! Off to bed with you before I get the strap! It's crazy mad you +all get the moment Eileen's away from you. Go on, now! (_They scurry +out of the rear door._) And be quiet or I'll be up to you! + +NORA (_sticks her head back in the door_). Can I say good-night to +Eileen, Papa? + +CARMODY. No. The doctor's with her yet. (_Then he adds hastily._) Yes, +go in to her, Nora. It'll drive himself out of the house maybe, bad +cess to him, and him stayin' half the night. (Nora _waits to hear no +more but darts back, shutting the door behind her._ Billy _takes the +chair in front of the table._ Carmody _sits down again with a groan._) +The rheumatics are in my leg again. (_Shakes his head._) If Eileen's in +bed long those brats'll have the house down. + +BILLY. Eileen ain't sick very bad, is she? + +CARMODY (_easily_). It's a cold only she has. (_Then mournfully._) Your +poor mother died of the same. (Billy _looks awed._) Ara, well, it's +God's will, I suppose, but where the money'll come from, I dunno. +(_With a disparaging glance at his son._) They'll not be raisin' your +wages soon, I'll be bound. + +BILLY (_surlily_). Naw. The old boss never gives no one a raise, 'less +he has to. He's a tight-wad for fair. + +CARMODY (_still scanning him with contempt_). Five dollars a week--for +a strappin' lad the like of you! It's shamed you should be to own up to +it. A divil of a lot of good it was for me to go against Eileen's wish +and let you leave off your schoolin' this year like you wanted, +thinkin' the money you'd earn at work would help with the house. + +BILLY. Aw, goin' to school didn't do me no good. The teachers was all +down on me. I couldn't learn nothin' there. + +CARMODY (_disgustedly_). Nor any other place, I'm thinkin', you're that +thick, (_There is a noise from the stairs in the hall._) Whisht! It's +the doctor comin' down from Eileen. What'll he say, I wonder? (_The +door in the rear is opened and_ Doctor Gaynor _enters. He is a stout, +bald, middle-aged man, forceful of speech, who in the case of patients +of the Carmodys' class dictates rather than advises._ Carmody _adopts a +whining tone._) Aw, Doctor, and how's Eileen now? Have you got her +cured of the weakness? + +GAYNOR (_does not answer this but comes forward into the room holding +out two slips of paper--dictatorially_). Here are two prescriptions +that'll have to be filled immediately. + +CARMODY (_frowning_). You take them, Billy, and run round to the drug +store. (Gaynor _hands them to_ Billy.) + +BILLY. Give me the money, then. + +CARMODY (_reaches down into his trousers pocket with a sigh_). How much +will they come to, Doctor? + +GAYNOR. About a dollar, I guess. + +CARMODY (_protestingly_). A dollar! Sure it's expensive medicines +you're givin' her for a bit of a cold. (_He meets the doctor's cold +glance of contempt and he wilts--grumblingly, as he peels a dollar bill +off a small roll and gives it to_ Billy.) Bring back the change--if +there is any. And none of your tricks, for I'll stop at the drug store +myself to-morrow and ask the man how much it was. + +BILLY. Aw, what do you think I am? (_He takes the money and goes out._) + +CARMODY (_grudgingly_). Take a chair, Doctor, and tell me what's wrong +with Eileen. + +GAYNOR (_seating himself by the table--gravely_). Your daughter is very +seriously ill. + +CARMODY (_irritably_). Aw, Doctor, didn't I know you'd be sayin' that, +anyway! + +GAYNOR (_ignoring this remark--coldly_). Your daughter has tuberculosis +of the lungs. + +CARMODY (_with puzzled awe_). Too-ber-c'losis? + +GAYNOR. Consumption, if that makes it plainer to you. + +CARMODY (_with dazed terror--after a pause_). Consumption? Eileen? +(_With sudden anger._) What lie is it you're tellin' me? + +GAYNOR (_icily_). Look here, Carmody! I'm not here to stand for your +insults! + +CARMODY (_bewilderingly_). Don't be angry, now, at what I said. Sure +I'm out of my wits entirely. Eileen to have the consumption! Ah, +Doctor, sure you must be mistaken! + +GAYNOR. There's no chance for a mistake, I'm sorry to say. Her right +lung is badly affected. + +CARMODY (_desperately_). It's a bad cold only, maybe. + +GAYNOR (_curtly_). Don't talk nonsense. (Carmody _groans._ Gaynor +_continues authoritatively._) She will have to go to a sanatorium at +once. She ought to have been sent to one months ago. The girl's been +keeping up on her nerve when she should have been in bed, and it's +given the disease a chance to develop. (_Casts a look of indignant +scorn at_ Carmody, _who is sitting staring at the floor with an +expression of angry stupor on his face._) It's a wonder to me you +didn't see the condition she was in and force her to take care of +herself. Why, the girl's nothing but skin and bone! + +CARMODY (_with vague fury_). God blast it! + +GAYNOR. No, your kind never realises things till the crash +comes--usually when it's too late. She kept on doing her work, I +suppose--taking care of her brothers and sisters, washing, cooking, +sweeping, looking after your comfort--worn out--when she should have +been in bed--and---- (_He gets to his feet with a harsh laugh._) But +what's the use of talking? The damage is done. We've got to set to work +to repair it at once. I'll write to-night to Dr. Stanton of the Hill +Farm Sanatorium and find out if he has a vacancy. And if luck is with +us we can send her there at once. The sooner the better. + +CARMODY (_his face growing red with rage_). Is it sendin' Eileen away +to a hospital you'd be? (_Exploding._) Then you'll not! You'll get that +notion out of your head damn quick. It's all nonsense you're stuffin' +me with, and lies, makin' things out to be the worst in the world. I'll +not believe a word of Eileen having the consumption at all. It's +doctors' notions to be always lookin' for a sickness that'd kill you. +She'll not move a step out of here, and I say so, and I'm her father! + +GAYNOR (_who has been staring at him with contempt--coldly angry_). You +refuse to let your daughter go to a sanatorium? + +CARMODY. I do. + +GAYNOR (_threateningly_). Then I'll have to report her case to the +Society for the Prevention of Tuberculosis of this county, and tell +them of your refusal to help her. + +CARMODY (_wavering a bit_). Report all you like, and be damned to you! + +GAYNOR (_ignoring the interruption--impressively_). A majority of the +most influential men of this city are behind the Society. Do you know +that? (_Grimly._) We'll find a way to move you, Carmody, if you try to +be stubborn. + +CARMODY (_thoroughly frightened, but still protesting_). Ara, Doctor, +you don't see the way of it at all. If Eileen goes to the hospital, +who's to be takin' care of the others, and mindin' the house when I'm +off to work? + +GAYNOR. You can easily hire some woman. + +CARMODY (_at once furious again_). Hire? D'you think I'm a millionaire +itself? + +GAYNOR (_contemptuously_). That's where the shoe pinches, eh? (_In a +rage._) I'm not going to waste any more words on you, Carmody, but I'm +damn well going to see this thing through! You might as well give in +first as last. + +CARMODY (_wailing_). But where's the money comin' from? + +GAYNOR (_brutally_). That's your concern. Don't lie about your poverty. +You've a steady well-paid job, and plenty of money to throw away on +drunken sprees, I'll bet. The weekly fee at the Hill Farm is only seven +dollars. You can easily afford that--the price of a few rounds of +drinks. + +CARMODY. Seven dollars! And I'll have to pay a woman to come in--and +the four of the children eatin' their heads off! Glory be to God, I'll +not have a penny saved for me old age--and then it's the poor-house! + +GAYNOR (_curtly_). Don't talk nonsense! + +CARMODY. Ah, doctor, it's the truth I'm tellin' you! + +GAYNOR. Well, perhaps I can get the Society to pay half for your +daughter--if you're really as hard up as you pretend. They're willing +to do that where it seems necessary. + +CARMODY (_brightening_). Ah, Doctor, thank you. + +GAYNOR (_abruptly_). Then it's all settled? + +CARMODY (_grudgingly--trying to make the best of it_). I'll do my best +for Eileen, if it's needful--and you'll not be tellin' them people +about it at all, Doctor? + +GAYNOR. Not unless you force me to. + +CARMODY. And they'll pay the half, surely? + +GAYNOR. I'll see what I can do--for your daughter's sake, not yours, +understand! + +CARMODY. God bless you, Doctor! (_Grumblingly._) It's the whole of it +they ought to be payin', I'm thinkin', and them with bags of money. +'Tis them builds the hospitals and why should they be wantin' the poor +like me to support them? + +GAYNOR (_disgustedly_). Bah! (_Abruptly._) I'll telephone to Doctor +Stanton to-morrow morning. Then I'll know something definite when I +come to see your daughter in the afternoon. + +CARMODY (_darkly_). You'll be comin' again tomorrow? (_Half to +himself._) Leave it to the likes of you to be drainin' a man dry. + +(Gaynor _has gone out to the hall in rear and does not hear this last +remark. There is a loud knock from the outside door. The Doctor comes +back into the room carrying his hat and overcoat._) + +GAYNOR. There's someone knocking. + +CARMODY. Who'll it be? Ah, it's Fred Nicholls, maybe. (_In a low voice +to_ Gaynor _who has started to put on his overcoat._) Eileen's young +man, Doctor, that she's engaged to marry, as you might say. + +GAYNOR (_thoughtfully_). H'mm--yes--she spoke of him. + + (_As another knock sounds_ Carmody _hurries to the rear._ Gaynor, + _after a moments indecision, takes off his overcoat again and + sits down. A moment later_ Carmody _re-enters, followed by_ Fred + Nicholls, _who has left his overcoat and hat in the hallway._ + Nicholls _is a young fellow of twenty-three, stockily built, + fair-haired, handsome in a commonplace, conventional mould. His + manner is obviously an attempt at suave gentility; he has an + easy, taking smile and a ready laugh, but there is a petty, + calculating expression in his small, observing, blue eyes. His + well-fitting, ready-made clothes are carefully pressed. His whole + get-up suggests an attitude of man-about-small-town + complacency._) + +CARMODY (_as they enter_). I had a mind to phone to your house, but I +wasn't wishful to disturb you, knowin' you'd be comin' to call +to-night. + +NICHOLLS (_with disappointed concern_). It's nothing serious, I hope. + +CARMODY (_grumblingly_). Ah, who knows? Here's the doctor. You've not +met him? + +NICHOLLS (_politely, looking at_ Gaynor, _who inclines his head +stiffly_). I haven't had the pleasure. Of course, I've heard---- + +CARMODY. It's Doctor Gaynor. This is Fred Nicholls, Doctor. (_The two +men shake hands with conventional greetings._) Sit down, Fred, that's a +good lad, and be talkin' to the Doctor a moment while I go upstairs and +see how is Eileen. She's all alone up there. + +NICHOLLS. Certainly, Mr. Carmody. Go ahead--and tell her how sorry I am +to learn she's under the weather. + +CARMODY. I will so. (_He goes out._) + +GAYNOR (_after a pause in which he is studying_ Nicholls). Do you +happen to be any relative to the Albert Nicholls who is superintendent +over at the Downs Manufacturing Company? + +NICHOLLS (_smiling_). He's sort of a near relative--my father. + +GAYNOR. Ah, yes? + +NICHOLLS (_with satisfaction_). I work for the Downs Company +myself--bookkeeper---- + +GAYNOR. Miss Carmody--the sick girl upstairs--she had a position there +also, didn't she, before her mother died? + +NICHOLLS. Yes. She had a job as stenographer for a time. When she +graduated from the business college course--I was already working at +the Downs--and through my father's influence--you understand. (Gaynor +_nods curtly._) She was getting on finely, too, and liked the work. +It's too bad--her mother's death, I mean--forcing her to give it up and +come home to take care of those kids. + +GAYNOR. It's a damn shame. That's the main cause of her breakdown. + +NICHOLLS (_frowning_). I've noticed she's been looking badly lately. So +that's the trouble? Well, it's all her father's fault--and her own, +too, because whenever I raised a kick about his making a slave of her, +she always defended him. (_With a quick glance at the Doctor--in a +confidential tone._) Between us, Carmody's as selfish as they make 'em, +if you want my opinion. + +GAYNOR (_with a growl_). He's a hog on two legs. + +NICHOLLS (_with a gratified smile_). You bet! (_With a patronising +air._) I hope to get Eileen away from all this as soon as--things pick +up a little. (_Making haste to explain his connection with the dubious +household._) Eileen and I have gone around together for years--went to +Grammar and High School together--in different classes, of course. +She's really a corker--very different from the rest of the family +you've seen--like her mother. She's really educated and knows a +lot--used to carry off all the prizes at school. My folks like her +awfully well. Of course, they'd never stand for--him. + +GAYNOR. You'll excuse my curiosity--I've a good reason for it--but you +and Miss Carmody are engaged, aren't you? Carmody said you were. + +NICHOLLS (_embarrassed_). Why, yes, in a way--but nothing definite--no +official announcement or anything of that kind. It's all in the future. +We have to wait, you know. (_With a sentimental smile._) We've been +sort of engaged for years, you might say. It's always been sort of +understood between us. (_He laughs awkwardly._) + +GAYNOR (_gravely_). Then I can be frank with you. I'd like to be +because I may need your help. I don't put much faith in any promise +Carmody makes. Besides, you're bound to know anyway. She'd tell you. + +NICHOLLS (_a look of apprehension coming over his face_). Is it--about +her sickness? + +GAYNOR. Yes. + +NICHOLLS. Then--it's serious? + +GAYNOR. It's pulmonary tuberculosis--consumption. + +NICHOLLS (_stunned_). Consumption? Good heavens! (_After a dazed +pause--lamely._) Are you sure, Doctor? + +GAYNOR. Positive. (Nicholls _stares at him with vaguely frightened +eyes._) It's had a good start--thanks to her father's blind +selfishness--but let's hope that can be overcome. The important thing +is to ship her off to a sanatorium immediately. Carmody wouldn't hear +of it at first. However, I managed to bully him into consenting; but I +don't trust his word. That's where you can be of help. It's up to you +to convince him that it's imperative she be sent away at once--for the +safety of those around her as well as her own. + +NICHOLLS (_confusedly_). I'll do my best, Doctor. (_As if he couldn't +yet believe his ears--shuddering!_) Good heavens! She never said a word +about--being so ill. She's had a cold. But, Doctor--do you think this +sanatorium will----? + +GAYNOR (_with hearty hopefulness_). Most certainly. She has every +chance. The Hill Farm has a really surprising record of arrested +cases--as good as any place in the country. Of course, she'll never be +able to live as carelessly as before, even after the most favourable +results. She'll have to take care of herself. (_Apologetically._) I'm +telling you all this as being the one most intimately concerned. I +don't count Carmody. You are the one who will have to assume +responsibility for her welfare when she returns to everyday life. + +NICHOLLS (_answering as if he were merely talking to screen the +thoughts in his mind_). Yes--certainly. Where is this sanatorium, +Doctor--very far away? + +GAYNOR. Half an hour by train to the town. The sanatorium is two miles +out on the hills--a nice drive. You'll be able to see her whenever +you've a day off. It's a pleasant trip. + +NICHOLLS (_a look of horrified realisation has been creeping into his +eyes_). You said--Eileen ought to be sent away--for the sake of those +around her----? + +GAYNOR. That's obvious. T.B. is extremely contagious, you must know +that. Yet I'll bet she's been fondling and kissing those brothers and +sisters of hers regardless. (_Nicholls fidgets uneasily on his chair._) +And look at this house sealed tight against the fresh air! Not a window +open an inch! (_Fuming._) That's what we're up against in the fight +with T.B.--a total ignorance of the commonest methods of prevention---- + +NICHOLLS (_his eyes shiftily avoiding the doctor's face_). Then the +kids might have gotten it--by kissing Eileen? + +GAYNOR. It stands to reason that's a common means of communication. + +NICHOLLS (_very much shaken_). Yes. I suppose it must be. But that's +terrible, isn't it? (_With sudden volubility, evidently extremely +anxious to wind up this conversation and conceal his thoughts from_ +Gaynor.) I'll promise you, Doctor, I'll tell Carmody straight what's +what. He'll pay attention to me or I'll know the reason why. + +GAYNOR (_getting to his feet and picking up his overcoat_). Good boy! +You've probably saved me a disagreeable squabble. I won't wait for +Carmody. The sight of him makes me lose my temper. Tell him I'll be +back to-morrow with definite information about the sanatorium. + +NICHOLLS (_helping him on with his overcoat, anxious to have him go_). +All right, Doctor. + +GAYNOR (_puts on his hat_). And do your best to cheer the patient up +when you talk to her. Give her confidence in her ability to get well. +That's half the battle. And she'll believe it, coming from you. + +NICHOLLS (_hastily_). Yes, yes, I'll do all I can. + +GAYNOR (_turns to the door and shakes_ Nicholls' _hand +sympathetically_). And don't take it to heart too much yourself. +There's every hope, remember that. In six months she'll come back to +you her old self again. + +NICHOLLS (_nervously_). It's hard on a fellow--so suddenly--but I'll +remember--and---- (_Abruptly_). Good night, Doctor. + +GAYNOR. Good night. + + (_He goes out. The outer door is heard shutting behind him._ + Nicholls _closes the door, rear, and comes back and sits in the + chair in front of table. He rests his chin on his hands and + stares before him, a look of desperate, frightened calculation + coming into his eyes._ Carmody _is heard clumping heavily down + the stairs. A moment later he enters. His expression is glum and + irritated._) + +CARMODY (_coming forward to his chair by the stove_). Has he gone away? + +NICHOLLS (_turning on him with a look of repulsion_). Yes. He told me +to tell you he'd be back to-morrow with definite information--about the +sanatorium business. + +CARMODY (_darkly_). Oho, he did, did he? Maybe I'll surprise him. I'm +thinkin' it's lyin' he is about Eileen's sickness, and her lookin' as +fresh as a daisy with the high colour in her cheeks when I saw her now. + +NICHOLLS (_impatiently_). That's silly, Mr. Carmody. Gaynor knows his +business. (_After a moment's hesitation._) He told me all about +Eileen's sickness. + +CARMODY (_resentfully_). Did he now, the auld monkey! Small thanks to +him to be tellin' our secrets to the town. + +NICHOLLS (_exasperated_). I didn't want to learn your affairs. He only +told me because you'd said I and Eileen were engaged. You're the one +who was telling--secrets. + +CARMODY (_irritated_). Ara, don't be talkin'! That's no secret at all +with the whole town watchin' Eileen and you spoonin' together from the +time you was kids. + +NICHOLLS (_vindictively_). Well, the whole town is liable to find +out---- (_He checks himself._) + +CARMODY (_too absorbed in his own troubles to notice this threat_). To +hell with the town and all in it! I've troubles enough of my own. So he +told you he'd send Eileen away to the hospital? I've half a mind not to +let him--and let him try to make me! (_With a frown._) But Eileen +herself says she's wantin' to go, now. (_Angrily._) It's all that +divil's notion he put in her head that the children'd be catchin' her +sickness that makes her willin' to go. + +NICHOLLS (_with a superior air_). From what he told me, I should say it +was the only thing for Eileen to do if she wants to get well quickly. +(_Spitefully._) And I'd certainly not go against Gaynor, if I was you. +He told me he'd make it hot for you if you did. He will, too, you can +bet on that. He's that kind. + +CARMODY (_worriedly_). He's a divil. But what can he do--him and his +Sasiety? I'm her father. + +NICHOLLS (_seeing_ Carmody's _uneasiness, with revengeful +satisfaction_). Oh, he'll do what he says, don't worry! You'll make a +mistake if you think he's bluffing. It'd probably get in all the papers +about you refusing. Every one would be down on you. (_As a last +jab--spitefully._) You might even lose your job over it, people would +be so sore. + +CARMODY (_jumping to his feet_). Ah, divil take him! Let him send her +where he wants, then. I'll not be sayin' a word. + +NICHOLLS (_as an afterthought_). And, honestly, Mr. Carmody, I don't +see how you can object for a second--after he's told you it's +absolutely necessary for Eileen to go away. (_Seeing_ Carmody's _shaken +condition, he finishes boldly._) You've some feeling for your own +daughter, haven't you? You'd be a fine father if you hadn't! + +CARMODY (_apprehensively_). Whisht! She might hear you. But you're +right. Let her do what she's wishful to, _and_ get well soon. + +NICHOLLS (_complacently--feeling his duty in the matter well done_). +That's the right spirit. I knew you'd see it that way. And you and I'll +do all we can to help her. (_He gets to his feet._) Well, I guess I'll +have to go. Tell Eileen---- + +CARMODY. You're not goin'? Sure, Eileen is puttin' on her clothes to +come down and have a look at you. She'll be here in a jiffy. Sit down +now, and wait for her. + +NICHOLLS (_suddenly panic-stricken by the prospect of facing her_). +No--no--I can't stay--I only came for a moment--I've got an +appointment--honestly. Besides, it isn't right for her to be up. She's +too weak. It'll make her worse. You should have told her. + + (_The door in the rear is opened and_ Eileen _enters. She is + just over eighteen. Her wavy mass of dark hair is parted in the + middle and combed low on her forehead, covering her ears, to a + knot at the back of her head. The oval of her face is spoiled by + a long, rather heavy Irish jaw contrasting with the delicacy of + her other features. Her eyes are large and blue, confident in + their compelling candour and sweetness; her lips, full and red, + half-open over strong, even teeth, droop at the corners into + an expression of wistful sadness; her clear complexion is + unnaturally striking in its contrasting colours, rose and white; + her figure is slight and undeveloped. She wears a plain black + dress with a bit of white at the neck and wrists. She stands + looking appealingly at_ Nicholls, _who avoids her glance. Her + eyes have a startled, stunned expression as if the doctor's + verdict were still in her ears._) + +EILEEN (_faintly--forcing a smile_). Good evening, Fred. (_Her eyes +search his face anxiously._) + +NICHOLLS (_confusedly_). Hello, Eileen. I'm so sorry to---- (_Clumsily +trying to cover up his confusion, he goes over and leads her to a +chair._) You must sit down. You've got to take care of yourself. You +never ought to have got up to-night. + +EILEEN (_sits down_). I wanted to talk to you. (_She raises her face +with a pitiful smile._ Nicholls _hurriedly moves back to his own +chair._) + +NICHOLLS (_almost brusquely_). I could have talked to you from the +hall. You're silly to take chances just now. + + (Eileen's _eyes show her hurt at his tone._) + +CARMODY (_seeing his chance--hastily_). You'll be stayin' a while now, +Fred? I'll take a walk down the road. I'm needin' a drink to clear my +wits. (_He goes to the door in rear._) + +EILEEN (_reproachfully_). You won't be long, Father? And please +don't--you know. + +CARMODY (_exasperated_). Sure who wouldn't get drunk with all the +sorrows of the world piled on him? (_He stamps out. A moment later the +outside door bangs behind him._ Eileen _sighs._ Nicholls _walks up and +down with his eyes on the floor._) + +NICHOLLS (_furious at_ Carmody _for having left him in this +situation_). Honestly, Eileen, your father is the limit. I don't see +how you stand for him. He's the most selfish---- + +EILEEN (_gently_). Sssh! You mustn't, Fred. He's not to blame. He just +doesn't understand. (Nicholls _snorts disdainfully._) Don't! Let's not +talk about him now. We won't have many more evenings together for a +long, long time. Did father or the Doctor tell you---- (_She falters._) + +NICHOLLS (_not looking at her--glumly_). Everything there was to tell, +I guess. + +EILEEN (_hastening to comfort him_). You mustn't worry, Fred. Please +don't! It'd make it so much worse for me if I thought you did. I'll be +all right. I'll do exactly what they tell me, and in a few months I'll +be back so fat and healthy you won't know me. + +NICHOLLS (_lamely_). Oh, there's no doubt of that. No one's worrying +about your not getting well quick. + +EILEEN. It won't be long. We can write often, and it isn't far away. +You can come out and see me every Sunday--if you want to. + +NICHOLLS (_hastily_). Of course I will! + +EILEEN (_looking at his face searchingly_). Why do you act so funny? +Why don't you sit down--here, by me? Don't you want to? + +NICHOLLS (_drawing up a chair by hers--flushing guiltily_). I--I'm all +flustered, Eileen. I don't know what I'm doing. + +EILEEN (_putting her hand on his knee_). Poor Fred! I'm so sorry I have +to go. I didn't want to at first. I knew how hard it would be on father +and the kids--especially little Mary. (_Her voice trembles a bit._) And +then the doctor said if I stayed I'd be putting them all in danger. He +even ordered me not to kiss them any more. (_She bites her lip to +restrain a sob--then coughs, a soft, husky cough._ Nicholls _shrinks +away from her to the edge of his chair, his eyes shifting nervously +with fright._ Eileen _continues gently._) So I've got to go and get +well, don't you see? + +NICHOLLS (_wetting his dry lips_). Yes--it's better. + +EILEEN (_sadly_). I'll miss the kids so much. Taking care of them has +meant so much to me since mother died. (_With a half-sob she suddenly +throws her arms about his neck and hides her face on his shoulder. He +shudders and fights against an impulse to push her away._) But I'll +miss you most of all, Fred. (_She lifts her lips towards his, expecting +a kiss. He seems about to kiss her--then averts his face with a +shrinking movement, pretending he hasn't seen._ Eileen's _eyes grow +wide with horror. She throws herself back into her chair, staring +accusingly at_ Nicholls. _She speaks chokingly._) Fred! Why--why didn't +you kiss--what is it? Are you--afraid? (_With a moaning sound._) Oooh! + +NICHOLLS (_goaded by this accusation into a display of manhood, seizes +her fiercely by the arms_). No! What--what d'you mean? (_He tries to +kiss her, but she hides her face._) + +EILEEN (_in a muffled voice of hysterical self-accusation, pushing his +head away_). No, no, you mustn't! I was wrong. The doctor told you not +to, didn't he? Please don't, Fred! It would be awful if anything +happened to you--through me. (Nicholls _gives up his attempts, recalled +to caution by her words. She raises her face and tries to force a smile +through her tears._) But you can kiss me on the forehead, Fred. That +can't do any harm. (_His face crimson, he does so. She laughs +hysterically._) It seems so silly--being kissed that way--by you. (_She +gulps back a sob and continued to attempt to joke._) I'll have to get +used to it, won't I? + + +THE CURTAIN FALLS + + + + +Act One: Scene Two. + + + _The reception room of the Infirmary, a large, high-ceilinged room + painted white, with oiled, hard wood floor. In the left wall, + forward, a row of four windows. Farther back, the main entrance + from the drive, and another window. In the rear wall left, a glass + partition looking out on the sleeping porch. A row of white beds, + with the faces of patients barely peeping out from under piles of + heavy bed-clothes, can be seen. To the right of this partition, a + bookcase, and a door leading to the hall past the patients' rooms. + Farther right, another door opening on the examining room. In the + right wall, rear, a door to the office. Farther forward, a row of + windows. In front of the windows, a long dining-table with chairs. + On the left of the table, towards the centre of the room, a chimney + with two open fire-places, facing left and right. Several wicker + armchairs are placed around the fire-place on the left in which a + cheerful wood fire is crackling. To the left of centre, a round + reading and writing table with a green-shaded electric lamp. Other + electric lights are in brackets around the walls. Easy chairs stand + near the table, which is stacked with magazines. Rocking chairs are + placed here and there about the room, near the windows, etc. A + gramophone stands near the left wall, forward._ + + _It is nearing eight o'clock of a cold evening about a week later._ + + _At the rise of the curtain_ Stephen Murray _is discovered sitting + in a chair in front of the fireplace, left._ Murray _is thirty + years old--a tall, slender, rather unusual-looking fellow with a + pale face, sunken under high cheek bones, lined about the eyes and + mouth, jaded and worn for one still so young. His intelligent, + large hazel eyes have a tired, dispirited expression in repose, but + can quicken instantly with a concealed mechanism of mocking, + careless humour whenever his inner privacy is threatened. His large + mouth aids this process of protection by a quick change from its + set apathy to a cheerful grin of cynical good nature. He gives off + the impression of being somehow dissatisfied with himself, but not + yet embittered enough by it to take it out on others. His manner, + as revealed by his speech--nervous, inquisitive, alert--seems more + an acquired quality than any part of his real nature. He stoops a + trifle, giving him a slightly round-shouldered appearance. He is + dressed in a shabby dark suit, baggy at the knees. He is staring + into the fire, dreaming, an open book lying unheeded on the arm of + his chair. The gramophone is whining out the last strains of + Dvorak's Humoresque. In the doorway to the office,_ Miss Gilpin + _stands talking to_ Miss Howard. _The former is a slight, + middle-aged woman with black hair, and a strong, intelligent face, + its expression of resolute efficiency softened and made kindly by + her warm, sympathetic grey eyes._ Miss Howard _is tall, slender and + blonde--decidedly pretty and provokingly conscious of it, yet with + a certain air of seriousness underlying her apparent frivolity. She + is twenty years old. The elder woman is dressed in the all-white of + a full-fledged nurse._ Miss Howard _wears the grey-blue uniform of + one still in training. The record finishes._ Murray _sighs with + relief, but makes no move to get up and stop the grinding needle._ + Miss Howard _hurries across to the machine._ Miss Gilpin _goes back + into the office._ + +MISS HOWARD (_takes off the record, glancing at_ Murray _with amused +vexation_). It's a wonder you wouldn't stop this machine grinding +itself to bits, Mr. Murray. + +MURRAY (_with a smile_). I was hoping the darn thing would bust. (Miss +Howard _sniffs._ Murray _grins at her teasingly._) It keeps you from +talking to me. That's the real music. + +MISS HOWARD (_comes over to his chair laughing_). It's easy to see +you've got Irish in you. Do you know what I think? I think you're a +natural born kidder. All newspaper reporters are like that, I've heard. + +MURRAY. You wrong me terribly. (_Then frowning._) And it isn't +charitable to remind me of my job. I hoped to forget all about it up +here. + +MISS HOWARD (_surprised_). I think it's great to be able to write. I +wish I could. You ought to be proud of it. + +MURRAY (_glumly_). I'm not. You can't call it writing--not what I +did--small town stuff. (_Changing the subject._) But I wanted to ask +you something. Do you know when I'm to be moved away to the huts? + +MISS HOWARD. In a few days, I guess. Don't be impatient. (Murray +_grunts and moves nervously on his chair._) What's the matter? Don't +you like us here at the Sanatorium? + +MURRAY (_smiling_). Oh--you--yes! (_Then seriously._) I don't care for +the atmosphere, though. (_He waves his hand towards the partition +looking out on the porch._) All those people in bed out there on the +porch seem so sick. It's depressing. I can't do anything for +them--and--it makes me feel so helpless. + +MISS HOWARD. Well, it's the rules, you know. All the patients have to +come here first until Doctor Stanton finds out whether they're well +enough to be sent out to the huts and cottages. And remember you're a +patient just like the ones in bed out there--even if you are up and +about. + +MURRAY. I know it. But I don't feel as I were--really sick like them. + +MISS HOWARD (_wisely_). None of them do, either. + +MURRAY (_after a moment's reflection--cynically_). Yes, I suppose it's +that pipe dream that keeps us all going, eh? + +MISS HOWARD. Well, you ought to be thankful. You're very lucky, if you +knew it. (_Lowering her voice._) Shall I tell you a secret? I've seen +your chart and _you've_ no cause to worry. Doctor Stanton joked about +it. He said you were too uninteresting--there was so little the matter +with you. + +MURRAY (_pleased, but pretending indifference_). Humph! He's original +in that opinion. + +MISS HOWARD. I know it's hard your being the only one up the week since +you've been here, with no one to talk to; but there's another patient +due to-day. Maybe she'll be well enough to be around with you. (_With a +quick glance at her wrist watch._) She can't be coming unless she got +in on the last train. + +MURRAY (_interestedly_). It's a she, eh? + +MISS HOWARD. Yes. + +MURRAY (_grinning provokingly_). Young? + +MISS HOWARD. Eighteen, I believe. (_Seeing his grin--with feigned +pique._) I suppose you'll be asking if she's pretty next! Oh, you men +are all alike, sick or well. Her name is Carmody, that's the only other +thing I know. So there! + +MURRAY. Carmody? + +MISS HOWARD. Oh, you don't know her. She's from another part of the +state from your town. + +MISS GILPIN (_appearing in the office doorway_). Miss Howard. + +MISS HOWARD. Yes, Miss Gilpin. (_In an aside to Murray __as she leaves +him._) It's time for those horrid diets. + + (_She hurries back into the office._ Murray _stares into the + fire._ Miss Howard _reappears from the office and goes out by the + door to the hall, rear. Carriage wheels are heard from the drive + in front of the house on the left. They stop. After a pause there + is a sharp rap on the door and a bell rings insistently. Men's + muffled voices are heard in argument._ Murray _turns curiously in + his chair._ Miss Gilpin _comes from the office and walks quickly + to the door, unlocking and opening it._ Eileen _enters, followed + by_ Nicholls, _who is carrying her suit-case, and by her father._) + +EILEEN. I'm Miss Carmody. I believe Doctor Gaynor wrote---- + +MISS GILPIN (_taking her hand--with kind affability_). We've been +expecting you all day. How do you do? I'm Miss Gilpin. You came on the +last train, didn't you? + +EILEEN (_heartened by the other woman's kindness_). Yes. This is my +father, Miss Gilpin--and Mr. Nicholls. + + (Miss Gilpin _shakes hands cordially with the two men who are + staring about the room in embarrassment._ Carmody _has very + evidently been drinking. His voice is thick and his face + puffed and stupid._ Nicholls' _manner is that of one who is + accomplishing a necessary but disagreeable duty with the best + grace possible, but is frightfully eager to get it over and done + with._ Carmody's _condition embarrasses him acutely and when he + glances at him it is with hatred and angry disgust._) + +MISS GILPIN (_indicating the chairs in front of the windows on the +left, forward_). Won't you gentlemen sit down? (Carmody _grunts +sullenly and plumps himself into the one nearest the door._ Nicholls +_hesitates, glancing down at the suit-case he carries._ Miss Gilpin +_turns to_ Eileen.) And now we'll get you settled immediately. Your +room is all ready for you. If you'll follow me---- (_She turns toward +the door in rear, centre._) + +EILEEN. Let me take the suit-case now, Fred. + +MISS GILPIN (_as he is about to hand it to her--decisively_). No, my +dear, you mustn't. Put the case right down there, Mr. Nicholls. I'll +have it taken to Miss Carmody's room in a moment. (_She shakes her +finger at_ Eileen _with kindly admonition._) That's the first rule +you'll have to learn. Never exert yourself or tax your strength. It's +very important. You'll find laziness is a virtue instead of a vice with +us. + +EILEEN (_confused_). I--I didn't know---- + +MISS GILPIN (_smiling_). Of course you didn't. And now if you'll come +with me I'll show you your room. We'll have a little chat there and I +can explain all the other important rules in a second. The gentlemen +can make themselves comfortable in the meantime. We won't be gone more +than a moment. + +NICHOLLS (_feeling called upon to say something_). Yes--we'll +wait--certainly, we're all right. + + (Carmody _remains silent, glowering at the fire._ Nicholls _sits + down beside him._ Miss Gilpin _and_ Eileen _go out._ Murray + _switches his chair so that he can observe the two men out of the + corner of his eye while pretending to be absorbed in his book._) + +CARMODY (_looking about shiftily and reaching for the inside pocket of +his overcoat_). I'll be havin' a nip now we're alone, and that cacklin' +hen gone. I'm feelin' sick in the pit of the stomach. (_He pulls out a +pint flask, half full._) + +NICHOLLS (_excitedly_). For God's sake, don't! Put that bottle away! +(_In a whisper._) Don't you see that fellow in the chair there? + +CARMODY (_taking a big drink_). Ah, I'm not mindin' a man at all. Sure +I'll bet it's himself would be likin' a taste of the same. (_He appears +about to get up and invite_ Murray _to join him, but_ Nicholls _grabs +his arm._) + +NICHOLLS (_with a frightened look at_ Murray _who appears buried in his +book_). Stop it, you---- Don't you know he's probably a patient and +they don't allow them---- + +CARMODY (_scornfully_). A sick one, and him readin' a book like a dead +man without a civil word out of him! It's queer they'd be allowin' the +sick ones to read books, when I'll bet it's the same lazy readin' in +the house brought the half of them down with the consumption itself. +(_Raising his voice._) I'm thinking this whole shebang is a big, +thievin' fake--and I've always thought so. + +NICHOLLS (_furiously_). Put that bottle away, damn it! And don't shout. +You're not in a public-house. + +CARMODY (_with provoking calm_). I'll put it back when I'm ready, not +before, and no lip from you! + +NICHOLLS (_with fierce disgust_). You're drunk now. It's disgusting. + +CARMODY (_raging_). Drunk, am I? Is it the like of a young jackass like +you that's still wet behind the ears to be tellin' me I'm drunk? + +NICHOLLS (_half-rising from his chair--pleadingly_). For heaven's sake, +Mr. Carmody, remember where we are and don't raise any rumpus. What'll +Eileen say? Do you want to make trouble for her at the start? + +CARMODY (_puts the bottle away hastily, mumbling to himself--then +glowers about the room scornfully with blinking eyes_). It's a grand +hotel this is, I'm thinkin', for the rich to be takin' their ease, and +not a hospital for the poor, but the poor has to pay for it. + +NICHOLLS (_fearful of another outbreak_). Sssh! + +CARMODY. Don't be shshin' at me? I'm tellin' you the truth. I'd make +Eileen come back out of this to-night if that divil of a doctor didn't +have me by the throat. + +NICHOLLS (_glancing at him nervously_). I wonder how soon she'll be +back? The carriage is waiting for us. We'll have to hurry to make that +last train back. If we miss it--it means two hours on the damn tram. + +CARMODY (_angrily_). Is it anxious to get out of her sight you are, and +you engaged to marry and pretendin' to love her? (Nicholls _flushes +guiltily._ Murray _pricks up his ears and stares over at_ Nicholls. +_The latter meets his glance, scowls, and hurriedly averts his eyes._ +Carmody _goes on accusingly._) Sure, it's no heart at all you have--and +her your sweetheart for years--and her sick with the consumption--and +you wild to run away from her and leave her alone. + +NICHOLLS (_springing to his feet--furiously_). That's a----! (_He +controls himself with an effort. His voice trembles._) You're not +responsible for the idiotic things you're saying or I'd---- (_He turns +away, seeking some escape from the old man's tongue._) I'll see if the +man is still there with the carriage. (_He walks to the door on left +and goes out._) + +CARMODY (_following him with his eyes_). Go to hell, for all I'm +preventin'. You've got no guts of a man in you. (_He addresses_ Murray +_with the good nature inspired by the flight of_ Nicholls.) Is it true +you're one of the consumptives, young fellow? + +MURRAY (_delighted by this speech--with a grin_). Yes, I'm one of them. + +CARMODY. My name's Carmody. What's yours, then? + +MURRAY. Murray. + +CARMODY (_slapping his thigh_). Irish as Paddy's pig! (Murray _nods._ +Carmody _brightens and grows confidential._) I'm glad to be knowin' +you're one of us. You can keep an eye on Eileen. That's my daughter +that came with us. She's got consumption like yourself. + +MURRAY. I'll be glad to do all I can. + +CARMODY. Thanks to you--though it's a grand life she'll be havin' here +from the fine look of the place. (_With whining self-pity._) It's me +it's hard on, God help me, with four small children and me widowed, and +havin' to hire a woman to come in and look after them and the house now +that Eileen's sick; and payin' for her curin' in this place, and me +with only a bit of money in the bank for my old age. That's hard, now, +on a man, and who'll say it isn't? + +MURRAY (_made uncomfortable by this confidence_). Hard luck always +comes in bunches. (_To head off_ Carmody _who is about to give vent to +more woe--quickly, with a glance towards the door from the hall._) If +I'm not mistaken, here comes your daughter now. + +CARMODY (_as_ Eileen _comes into the room_). I'll make you acquainted. +Eileen! (_She comes over to them, embarrassed to find her father in his +condition so chummy with a stranger._ Murray _rises to his feet._) This +is Mr. Murray, Eileen. I want you to meet. He's Irish and he'll put you +on to the ropes of the place. He's got the consumption, too, God pity +him. + +EILEEN (_distressed_). Oh, Father, how can you---- (_With a look at_ +Murray _which pleads for her father._) I'm glad to meet you, Mr. +Murray. + +MURRAY (_with a straight glance at her which is so frankly admiring +that she flushes and drops her eyes_). I'm glad to meet you. (_The +front door is opened and_ Nicholls _re-appears, shivering with the +cold. He stares over at the others with ill-concealed irritation._) + +CARMODY (_noticing him--with malicious satisfaction_). Oho, here you +are again. (Nicholls _scowls and turns away._ Carmody _addresses his +daughter with a sly wink at_ Murray.) I thought Fred was slidin' down +hill to the train with his head bare to the frost, and him so desperate +hurried to get away from here. Look at the knees on him clappin' +together with the cold, and with the great fear that's in him he'll be +catchin' a sickness in this place! (Nicholls, _his guilty conscience +stabbed to the quick, turns pale with impotent rage._) + +EILEEN (_remonstrating pitifully_). Father! Please! (_She hurries over +to_ Nicholls.) Oh, please don't mind him, Fred. You know what he is +when he's drinking. He doesn't mean a word he's saying. + +NICHOLLS (_thickly_). That's all right--for you to say. But I won't +forget--I'm sick and tired standing for--I'm not used to--such people. + +EILEEN (_shrinking from him_). Fred! + +NICHOLLS (_with a furious glance at_ Murray). Before that cheap slob, +too--letting him know everything! + +EILEEN (_faintly_). He seems--very nice. + +NICHOLLS. You've got your eyes set on him already, have you? Leave it +to you! No fear of your not having a good time of it out here! + +EILEEN. Fred! + +NICHOLLS. Well, go ahead if you want to. I don't care. I'll---- +(_Startled by the look of anguish which comes over her face, he hastily +swallows his words. He takes out his watch--fiercely._) We'll miss that +train, damn it! + +EILEEN (_in a stricken tone_). Oh, Fred! (_Then forcing back her tears +she calls to_ Carmody _in a strained voice._) Father! You'll have to go +now. Miss Gilpin told me to tell you you'd have to go right away to +catch the train. + +CARMODY (_shaking hands with_ Murray). I'll be goin'. Keep your eye on +her. I'll be out soon to see her and you and me'll have another talk. + +MURRAY. Glad to. Good-bye for the present. (_He walks to windows on the +far right, turning his back considerately on their leave-taking._) + +EILEEN (_comes to_ Carmody _and hangs on his arm as they proceed to the +door_). Be sure and kiss them all for me--Billy and Tom and Nora and +little Mary--and bring them out to see me as soon as you can, father, +please! And you come often, too, won't you? And don't forget to tell +Mrs. Brennan all the directions I gave you coming out on the train. I +told her, but she mightn't remember--about Mary's bath--and to give Tom +his---- + +CARMODY (_impatiently_). Hasn't she brought up brats of her own, and +doesn't she know the way of it? Don't be worryin' now, like a fool. + +EILEEN (_helplessly_). Never mind telling her, then. I'll write to her. + +CARMODY. You'd better not. Leave her alone. She'll not wish you mixin' +in with her work and tellin' her how to do it. + +EILEEN (_aghast_). Her work! (_She seems at the end of her +tether--wrung too dry for any further emotion. She kisses her father at +the door with indifference and speaks calmly._) Good-bye, father. + +CARMODY (_in a whining tone of injury_). A cold kiss! And never a small +tear out of her! Is your heart a stone? (_Drunken tears well from his +eyes and he blubbers._) And your own father going back to a lone house +with a stranger in it! + +EILEEN (_wearily, in a dead voice_). You'll miss your train, father. + +CARMODY (_raging in a second_). I'm off, then! Come on, Fred. It's no +welcome we have with her here in this place--and a great curse on this +day I brought her to it! (_He stamps out._) + +EILEEN (_in the same dead tone_). Good-bye, Fred. + +NICHOLLS (_repenting his words of a moment ago--confusedly_). I'm +sorry, Eileen--for what I said. I didn't mean--you know what your +father is--excuse me, won't you? + +EILEEN (_without feeling_). Yes. + +NICHOLLS. And I'll be out soon--in a week if I can make it. Well +then,--good-bye for the present. (_He bends down as if to kiss her, but +she shrinks back out of his reach._) + +EILEEN (_a faint trace of mockery in her weary voice_). No, Fred. +Remember you mustn't now. + +NICHOLLS (_in an instant huff_). Oh, if that's the way you feel +about---- + + (_He strides out and slams the door viciously behind him._ Eileen + _walks slowly back towards the fire-place, her face fixed in a + dead calm of despair. As she sinks into one of the armchairs, the + strain becomes too much. She breaks down, hiding her face in her + hands, her frail shoulders heaving with the violence of her sobs. + At this sound,_ Murray _turns from the windows and comes over + near her chair._) + +MURRAY (_after watching her for a moment--in an embarrassed tone of +sympathy_). Come on, Miss Carmody, that'll never do. I know it's hard +at first--but--getting yourself all worked up is bad for you. You'll +run a temperature and then they'll keep you in bed--which isn't +pleasant. Take hold of yourself! It isn't so bad up here--really--once +you get used to it! (_The shame she feels at giving way in the presence +of a stranger only adds to her loss of control and she sobs +heartbrokenly._ Murray _walks up and down nervously, visibly nonplussed +and upset. Finally he hits upon something._) One of the nurses will be +in any minute. You don't want them to see you like this. + +EILEEN (_chokes back her sobs and finally raises her face and attempts +a smile_). I'm sorry--to make such a sight of myself. I just couldn't +help it. + +MURRAY (_jocularly_). Well, they say a good cry does you a lot of good. + +EILEEN (_forcing a smile_). I do feel--better. + +MURRAY (_staring at her with a quizzical smile--cynically_). You +shouldn't take those lovers' squabbles so seriously. To-morrow he'll be +sorry--you'll be sorry. He'll write begging forgiveness--you'll do +ditto. Result--all serene again. + +EILEEN (_a shadow of pain on her face--with dignity_). Don't--please. + +MURRAY (_angry at himself--hanging his head contritely_). I'm a fool. +Pardon me. I'm rude sometimes--before I know it. (_He shakes off his +confusion with a renewed attempt at a joking tone._) You can blame your +father for any breaks I make. He made me your guardian, you know--told +me to see that you behaved. + +EILEEN (_with a genuine smile_). Oh, father! (_Flushing._) You mustn't +mind anything he said to-night. + +MURRAY (_thoughtlessly_). Yes, he was well lit up. I envied him. +(Eileen _looks very shame-faced._ Murray _sees it and exclaims in +exasperation at himself._) Darn! There I go again putting my foot in +it! (_With an irrepressible grin._) I ought to have my tongue operated +on--that's what's the matter with me. (_He laughs and throws himself in +a chair._) + +EILEEN (_forced in spite of herself to smile with him_). You're candid, +at any rate, Mr. Murray. + +MURRAY. Don't misunderstand me. Far be it from me to cast slurs at your +father's high spirits. I said I envied him his jag and that's the +truth. The same candour compels me to confess that I was pickled to the +gills myself when I arrived here. Fact! I made love to all the nurses +and generally disgraced myself--and had a wonderful time. + +EILEEN. I suppose it does make you forget your troubles--for a while. + +MURRAY (_waving this aside_). I didn't want to forget--not for a +second. I wasn't drowning my sorrow. I was hilariously celebrating. + +EILEEN (_astonished--by this time quite interested in this queer fellow +to the momentary forgetfulness of her own grief_). Celebrating--coming +here? But--aren't you sick? + +MURRAY. T.B.? Yes, of course. (_Confidentially._) But it's only a +matter of time when I'll be all right again. I hope it won't be too +soon. I was dying for a rest--a good, long rest with time to think +about things. I'm due to get what I wanted here. That's why I +celebrated. + +EILEEN (_with wide eyes_). I wonder if you really mean---- + +MURRAY. What I've been sayin'? I sure do--every word of it! + +EILEEN (_puzzled_). I can't understand how anyone could---- (_With a +worried glance over her shoulder._) I think I'd better look for Miss +Gilpin, hadn't I? She may wonder---- (_She half rises from her chair._) + +MURRAY (_quickly_). No. Please don't go yet. Sit down. Please do. (_She +glances at him irresolutely, then resumes her chair._) They'll give you +your diet of milk and shoo you off to bed on that freezing porch soon +enough, don't worry. I'll see to it that you don't fracture any rules. +(_Hitching his chair nearer hers--impulsively._) In all charity to me +you've got to stick awhile. I haven't had a chance to really talk to a +soul for a week. You found what I said a while ago hard to believe, +didn't you? + +EILEEN (_with a smile_). Isn't it? You said you hoped you wouldn't get +well too soon! + +MURRAY. And I meant it! This place is honestly like heaven to me--a +lonely heaven till your arrival. (Eileen _looks embarrassed._) And why +wouldn't it be? I've no fear for my health--eventually. Just let me +tell you what I was getting away from---- (_With a sudden laugh full of +a weary bitterness._) Do you know what it means to work from seven at +night till three in the morning as a reporter on a morning newspaper in +a town of twenty thousand people--for _ten years_? No. You don't. You +can't. No one could who hadn't been through the mill. But what it did +to me--it made me happy--yes, happy!--to get out here--T.B. and all, +notwithstanding. + +EILEEN (_looking at him curiously_). But I always thought being a +reporter was so interesting. + +MURRAY (_with a cynical laugh_). Interesting? On a small town rag? A +month of it, perhaps, when you're a kid and new to the game. But ten +years. Think of it! With only a raise of a couple of dollars every blue +moon or so, and a weekly spree on Saturday night to vary the monotony. +(_He laughs again._) Interesting, eh? Getting the dope on the Social of +the Queen Esther Circle in the basement of the Methodist Episcopal +Church, unable to sleep through a meeting of the Common Council on +account of the noisy oratory caused by John Smith's application for a +permit to build a house; making a note that a tugboat towed two barges +loaded with coal up the river, that Mrs. Perkins spent a week-end with +relatives in Hickville, that John Jones---- Oh help! Why go on? Ten +years of it! I'm a broken man. God, how I used to pray that our +Congressman would commit suicide, or the Mayor murder his wife--just to +be able to write a real story! + +EILEEN (_with a smile_). Is it as bad as that? But weren't there other +things in the town--outside your work--that were interesting? + +MURRAY (_decidedly_). No. Never anything new--and I knew everyone and +every thing in town by heart years ago. (_With sudden bitterness._) Oh, +it was my own fault. Why didn't I get out of it? Well, I didn't. I was +always going to--to-morrow--and to-morrow never came. I got in a +rut--and stayed put. People seem to get that way, somehow--in that +town. It's in the air. All the boys I grew up with--nearly all, at +least--took root in the same way. It took pleurisy, followed by T.B., +to blast me loose. + +EILEEN (_wonderingly_). But--your family--didn't they live there? + +MURRAY. I haven't much of a family left. My mother died when I was a +kid. My father--he was a lawyer--died when I was nineteen, just about +to go to college. He left nothing, so I went to work on the paper +instead. And there I've been ever since. I've two sisters, respectably +married and living in another part of the state. We don't get +along--but they are paying for me here, so I suppose I've no kick. +(_Cynically._) A family wouldn't have changed things. From what I've +seen that blood-thicker-than-water dope is all wrong. It's thinner than +table-d'hote soup. You may have seen a bit of that truth in your own +case already. + +EILEEN (_shocked_). How can you say that? You don't know---- + +MURRAY. Don't I, though? Wait till you've been here three months or +four--when the gap you left has been comfortably filled. You'll see +then! + +EILEEN (_angrily, her lips trembling_). You must be crazy to say such +things! (_Fighting back her tears._) Oh, I think it's hateful--when you +see how badly I feel! + +MURRAY (_in acute confusion. Stammering_). Look here, Miss Carmody, I +didn't mean to---- Listen--don't feel mad at me, please. My tongue ran +away with me. I was only talking. I'm like that. You mustn't take it +seriously. + +EILEEN (_still resentful_). I don't see how you can talk. You +don't--you can't know about these things--when you've just said you had +no family of your own, really. + +MURRAY (_eager to return to her good graces_). No. Of course I don't +know. I was just talking regardless for the fun of listening to it. + +EILEEN (_after a pause_). Hasn't either of your sisters any children? + +MURRAY. One of them has--two of them--ugly, squally little brats. + +EILEEN (_disapprovingly_). You don't like babies? + +MURRAY (_bluntly_). No. (_Then with a grin at her shocked face._) I +don't get them. They're something I can't seem to get acquainted with. + +EILEEN (_with a smile, indulgently_). You're a funny person. (_Then +with a superior, motherly air._) No wonder you couldn't understand how +badly I feel. (_With a tender smile._) I've four of them--my brothers +and sisters--though they're not what you'd call babies, except to me. +Billy is fourteen, Nora eleven, Tom ten, and even little Mary is eight. +I've been a mother to them now for a whole year--ever since our mother +died (_Sadly._) And I don't know how they'll ever get along while I'm +away. + +MURRAY (_cynically_). Oh, they'll--(_He checks what he was going to say +and adds lamely_)--get along somehow. + +EILEEN (_with the same superior tone_). It's easy for you to say that. +You don't know how children grow to depend on you for everything. +You're not a woman. + +MURRAY (_with a grin_). Are you? (_Then with a chuckle._) You're as old +as the pyramids, aren't you? I feel like a little boy. Won't you adopt +me, too? + +EILEEN (_flushing, with a shy smile_). Someone ought to. (_Quickly +changing the subject._) Do you know, I can't get over what you said +about hating your work so. I should think it would be wonderful--to be +able to write things. + +MURRAY. My job had nothing to do with writing. To write--really +write--yes, that's something worth trying for. That's what I've always +meant to have a stab at. I've run across ideas enough for stories--that +sounded good to me, anyway. (_With a forced, laugh._) But--like +everything else--I never got down to it. I started one or two--but--either +I thought I didn't have the time or---- (_He shrugs his shoulders._) + +EILEEN. Well, you've plenty of time now, haven't you? + +MURRAY (_instantly struck by this suggestion_). You mean--I could +write--up here? (_She nods. His face lights up with enthusiasm._) Say! +That is an idea! Thank you! I'd never have had sense enough to have +thought of that myself. (Eileen _flushes with pleasure._) Sure there's +time--nothing but time up here---- + +EILEEN. Then you seriously think you'll try it? + +MURRAY (_determinedly_). Yes. Why not? I've got to try and do something +real some time, haven't I? I've no excuse not to, now. My mind isn't +sick. + +EILEEN (_excitedly_). That'll be wonderful! + +MURRAY (_confidently_). Listen. I've had ideas for a series of short +stories for the last couple of years--small town experiences, some of +them actual. I know that life--too darn well. I ought to be able to +write about it. And if I can sell one--to the _Post_, say--I'm sure +they'd take the others, too. And then--I should worry! It'd be easy +sailing. But you must promise to help--play critic for me--read them +and tell me where they're rotten. + +EILEEN (_pleased, but protesting_). Oh, no, I'd never dare. I don't +know anything---- + +MURRAY. Yes, you do. You're the public. And you started me off on this +thing--if I'm really starting at last. So you've got to back me up now. +(_Suddenly._) Say, I wonder if they'd let me have a typewriter up here? + +EILEEN. It'd be fine if they would. I'd like to have one, too--to +practice. I learned stenography at a business college and then I had a +position for a year--before my mother died. + +MURRAY. We could hire one--I could. I don't see why they wouldn't allow +it. I'm to be sent to one of the men's huts within the next few days, +and you'll be shipped to one of the women's cottages within ten days. +You're not sick enough to be kept here in bed, I'm sure of that. + +EILEEN. I--I don't know---- + +MURRAY. Here! None of that! You just think you're not and you won't be. +Say, I'm keen on that typewriter idea. They couldn't kick if we only +used it during recreation periods. I could have it a week, and then you +a week. + +EILEEN (_eagerly_). And I could type your stories after you've written +them! I _could_ help that way. + +MURRAY (_smiling_). But I'm quite able---- (_Then seeing how interested +she is he adds hurriedly._) That'd be great! It'd save so much time. +I've always been a fool at a machine. And I'd be willing to pay +whatever---- (Miss Gilpin _enters from the rear and walks towards +them._) + +EILEEN (_quickly_). Oh, no! I'd be glad to get the practice. I wouldn't +accept---- (_She coughs slightly._) + +MURRAY (_with a laugh_). Maybe, after you've read my stuff, you won't +type it at any price. + +MISS GILPIN. Miss Carmody, may I speak to you for a moment, please. + + (_She takes_ Eileen _aside and talks to her in low tones of + admonition._ Eileen's _face falls. She nods a horrified + acquiescence._ Miss Gilpin _leaves her and goes into the office, + rear._) + +MURRAY (_as_ Eileen _comes back. Noticing her perturbation. Kindly_). +Well? Now, what's the trouble? + +EILEEN (_her lips trembling_). She told me I mustn't forget to shield +my mouth with my handkerchief when I cough. + +MURRAY (_consolingly_). Yes, that's one of the rules, you know. + +EILEEN (_falteringly_). She said they'd give me--a--cup to carry +around--(_She stops, shuddering._) + +MURRAY (_easily_). It's not as horrible as it sounds. They're only +little paste-board things you carry in your pocket. + +EILEEN (_as if speaking to herself_). It's so horrible (_She holds out +her hand to_ Murray.) I'm to go to my room now. Good night, Mr. Murray. + +MURRAY (_holding her hand for a moment--earnestly_). Don't mind your +first impressions here. You'll look on everything as a matter of course +in a few days. I felt your way at first. (_He drops her hand and shakes +his finger at her._) Mind your guardian, now! (_She forces a trembling +smile._) See you at breakfast. Good night. + + (Eileen _goes out to the hall in rear._ Miss Howard _comes in + from the door just after her, carrying a glass of milk._) + +MISS HOWARD. Almost bedtime, Mr. Murray. Here's your diet. (_He takes +the glass. She smiles at him provokingly._) Well, is it love at first +sight, Mr. Murray? + +MURRAY (_with a grin_). Sure thing! You can consider yourself +heartlessly jilted. (_He turns and raises his glass towards the door +through which_ Eileen _has just gone, as if toasting her._) + + "A glass of milk, and thou + Coughing beside me in the wilderness-- + Ah--wilderness were Paradise enow!" + + (_He takes a sip of milk._) + +MISS HOWARD (_peevishly_). That's old stuff, Mr. Murray. A patient at +Saranac wrote that parody. + +MURRAY (_maliciously_). Aha, you've discovered it's a parody, have you, +you sly minx! (Miss Howard _turns from him huffily and walks back +towards the office, her chin in the air._) + + +THE CURTAIN FALLS + + + + +Act Two + +Act Two: Scene One + + + _The assembly room of the main building of the sanatorium--early in + the morning of a fine day in June, four months later. The room is + large, light and airy, painted a fresh white. On the left forward, + an armchair. Farther back, a door opening on the main hall. To the + rear of this door, a pianola on a raised platform. At back of the + pianola, a door leading into the office. In the rear wall, a long + series of French windows looking out on the lawn, with wooded hills + in the far background. Shrubs in flower grow immediately outside + the windows Inside, there is a row of potted plants. In the right + wall, rear, four windows. Farther forward, a long well-filled + bookcase, and a doorway leading into the dining-room. Following the + walls, but about five feet out from them a stiff line of chairs + placed closely against each other forms a sort of right-angled + auditorium of which the large, square table that stands at centre, + forward, would seem to be the stage._ + + _From the dining-room comes the clatter of dishes, the confused + murmur of many voices, male and female--all the mingled sounds of a + crowd of people at a meal._ + + _After the curtain rises,_ Doctor Stanton _enters from the hall, + followed by a visitor,_ Mr. Sloan, _and the assistant physician,_ + Doctor Simms. Doctor Stanton _is a handsome man of forty-five or so + with a grave, care-lined, studious face lightened by a kindly, + humorous smile. His grey eyes, saddened by the suffering they have + witnessed, have the sympathetic quality of real understanding. The + look they give is full of companionship, the courage-renewing, + human companionship of a hope which is shared. He speaks with a + slight Southern accent, soft and slurring._ Doctor Simms _is a + tall, angular young man with a long sallow face and a sheepish, + self-conscious grin._ Mr. Sloan _is fifty, short and stout, well + dressed--one of the successful business men whose endowments have + made the Hill Farm a possibility._ + +STANTON (_as they enter_). This is what you might see in the general +assembly room, Mr. Sloan--where the patients of both sexes are allowed +to congregate together after meals, for diets, and in the evening. + +SLOAN (_looking around him_). Couldn't be more pleasant, I must +say--light and airy. (_He walks to where he can take a peep into the +dining-room._) Ah, they're all at breakfast, I see. + +STANTON (_smiling_). Yes, and with no lack of appetite, let me tell +you. (_With a laugh of proud satisfaction._) They'd sure eat us out of +house and home at one sitting, if we'd give them the opportunity. (_To +his assistant._) Wouldn't they, Doctor? + +SIMMS (_with his abashed grin_). You bet they would, sir. + +SLOAN (_with a smile_). That's fine. (_With a nod towards the +dining-room._) The ones in there are the sure cures, aren't they? + +STANTON (_a shadow coming over his face_). Strictly speaking, there are +no sure cures in this disease, Mr. Sloan. When we permit a patient to +return to take up his or her activities in the world, the patient is +what we call an arrested case. The disease is overcome, quiescent; the +wound is healed over. It's then up to the patient to so take care of +himself that this condition remains permanent. It isn't hard for them +to do this, usually. Just ordinary, bull-headed common sense--added to +what they've learned here--is enough for their safety. And the +precautions we teach them to take don't diminish their social +usefulness in the slightest, either, as I can prove by our statistics +of former patients. (_With a smile._) It's rather early in the morning +for statistics, though. + +SLOAN (_with a wave of the hand_). Oh, you needn't. Your reputation in +that respect, Doctor---- (Stanton _inclines his head in +acknowledgment._ Sloan _jerks his thumb towards the dining-room_.) But +the ones in there _are_ getting well, aren't they? + +STANTON. To all appearances, yes. You don't dare swear to it, though. +Sometimes, just when a case looks most favourably, there's a sudden, +unforeseen breakdown, and they have to be sent back to bed, or, if it's +very serious, back to the Infirmary again. These are the exceptions, +however, not the rule. You can bank on most of those eaters being out +in the world and usefully employed within six months. + +SLOAN. You couldn't say more than that (_Abruptly._) But--the +unfortunate ones--do you have many deaths? + +STANTON (_with a frown_). No. We're under a very hard, almost cruel +imperative which prevents that. If, at the end of six months, a case +shows no response to treatment, continues to go down hill--if, in a +word, it seems hopeless--we send them away, to one of the State Farms +if they have no private means. (_Apologetically._) You see, this +sanatorium is overcrowded and has a long waiting list, most of the +time, of others who demand their chance for life. We have to make +places for them. We have no time to waste on incurables. There are +other places for them--and sometimes, too, a change is beneficial and +they pick up in new surroundings. You never can tell. But we're bound +by the rule. It may seem cruel--but it's as near justice to all +concerned as we can come. + +SLOAN (_soberly_). I see. (_His eyes fall on the pianola in surprise._) +Ah--a piano. + +STANTON (_replying to the other's thought_). Yes, some patients play +and sing. (_With a smile._) If you'd call the noise they make by those +terms. They'd dance, too, if we permitted it. There's only one big +taboo--Home, Sweet Home. We forbid that--for obvious reasons. + +SLOAN. I see. (_With a final look around._) Did I understand you to say +this is the only place where the sexes are permitted to mingle? + +STANTON. Yes, sir. + +SLOAN (_with a smile_). Not much chance for a love affair then. + +STANTON (_seriously_). We do our best to prevent them. We even have a +strict rule which allows us to step in and put a stop to any intimacy +which grows beyond the casual. People up here, Mr. Sloan, are expected +to put aside all ideas except the one--getting well. + +SLOAN (_somewhat embarrassed_). A damn good rule, too, I should say, +under the circumstances. + +STANTON (_with a laugh_). Yes, we're strictly anti-Cupid, sir, from top +to bottom, (_Turning to the door to the hall._) And now, if you don't +mind, Mr. Sloan, I'm going to turn you loose to wander about the +grounds on an unconducted tour. To-day is my busy morning--Saturday. We +weigh each patient immediately after breakfast. + +SLOAN. Every week? + +STANTON. Every Saturday. You see we depend on fluctuations in weight to +tell us a lot about the patient's condition. If they gain, or stay at +normal, all's usually well. If they lose week after week without any +reason we can definitely point to, we keep careful watch. It's a sign +that something's wrong. We're forewarned by it and on our guard. + +SLOAN (_with a smile_). Well, I'm certainly learning things. (_He turns +to the door._) And you just shoo me off wherever you please and go on +with the good work. I'll be glad of a ramble in the open on such a +glorious morning. + +STANTON. After the weighing is over, sir, I'll be free to---- + + (_His words are lost as the three go out. A moment later,_ Eileen + _enters from the dining-room. She has grown stouter, her face has + more of a healthy, out-of-door colour, but there is still about + her the suggestion of being worn down by a burden too oppressive + for her courage. She is dressed in blouse and dark skirt. She + goes to the armchair, left forward, and sinks down on it. She + is evidently in a state of nervous depression; she twists her + fingers together in her lap; her eyes stare sadly before her; she + clenches her upper lip with her teeth to prevent its trembling. + She has hardly regained control over herself when_ Stephen Murray + _comes in hurriedly from the dining-room and, seeing her at his + first glance, walks quickly over to her chair. He is the picture + of health, his figure has filled out solidly, his tanned face + beams with suppressed exultation._) + +MURRAY (_excitedly_). Eileen! I saw you leave your table. I've +something to tell you. I didn't get a chance last night after the mail +came. You'd gone to the cottage. Just listen, Eileen--it's too good to +be true--but on that mail--guess what? + +EILEEN (_forgetting her depression--with an excited smile_). I know! +You've sold your story! + +MURRAY (_triumphantly_). Go to the head of the class. What d'you know +about that for luck! My first, too--and only the third magazine I sent +it to! (_He cuts a joyful caper._) + +EILEEN (_happily_). Isn't that wonderful, Stephen! But I knew all the +time you would. The story's so good. + +MURRAY. Well, you might have known, but I didn't think there was a +chance in the world. And as for being good--(_With superior air_)--wait +till I turn loose with the real big ones, the kind I'm going to write. +Then I'll make them sit up and take notice. They can't stop me now. +This money gives me a chance to sit back and do what I please for a +while. And I haven't told you the best part. The editor wrote saying +how much he liked the yarn and asked me for more of the same kind. + +EILEEN. And you've the three others about the same person--just as +good, too! Why, you'll sell them all! (_She clasps her hands +delightedly._) + +MURRAY. And I can send them out right away. They're all typed, thanks +to you. That's what's brought me luck, I know. I never had a bit by +myself. (_Then, after a quick glance around to make sure they are +alone, he bends down and kisses her._) There! A token of +gratitude--even if it is against the rules. + +EILEEN (_flushing--with timid happiness_). Stephen! You mustn't! +They'll see. + +MURRAY (_boldly_). Let them! + +EILEEN. But you know--they've warned us against being so much together, +already. + +MURRAY. Let them! We'll be out of this prison soon. (Eileen _shakes her +head sadly, but he does not notice._) Oh, I wish you could leave when I +do. We'd have some celebration together. + +EILEEN (_her lips trembling_). I was thinking last night--that you'd +soon be going away. You look so well. Do you think--they'll let you +go--soon? + +MURRAY. You bet I do. I'm bound to go now. It's ridiculous keeping me +here when I'm as healthy as a pig. I caught Stanton in the hall last +night and asked him if I could go. + +EILEEN (_anxiously_). What did he say? + +MURRAY. He only smiled and said: "We'll see if you gain weight +to-morrow." As if that mattered now! Why, I'm way above normal as it +is! But you know Stanton--always putting you off. But I could tell by +the way he said it he'd be willing to consider---- + +EILEEN (_slowly_). Then--if you gain to-day--- + +MURRAY. He'll let me go. Yes, I know he will. I'm going to insist on +it. + +EILEEN. Then--you'll leave----? + +MURRAY. Right away. The minute I can get packed. + +EILEEN (_trying to force a smile_). Oh, I'm so glad--for your sake; +but--I'm selfish--it'll be so lonely here without you. + +MURRAY (_consolingly_). You'll be going away yourself before long. +(Eileen _shakes her head. He goes on without noticing, wrapped in his +own success._) Oh, Eileen, you can't imagine all it opens up for +me--selling that story. I don't have to go back home to stagnate. I can +go straight to New York, and live, and meet real people who are doing +things. I can take my time, and try and do the work I hope to. +(_Feelingly._) You don't know how grateful I am to you, Eileen--how +you've helped me. Oh, I don't mean just the typing, I mean your +encouragement, your faith! I'd never have had guts enough to stick to +it myself. The stories would never have been written if it hadn't been +for you. + +EILEEN (_choking back a sob_). I didn't do--anything. + +MURRAY (_staring down at her--with rough kindliness_). Here, here, +that'll never do! You're not weeping about it, are you, silly? (_He +pats her on the shoulder._) What's the matter, Eileen? You didn't eat a +thing this morning. I was watching you. (_With kindly severity._) +That's no way to gain weight, you know. You'll have to feed up. Do you +hear what your guardian commands, eh? + +EILEEN (_with dull hopelessness_). I know I'll lose again. I've been +losing steadily the past three weeks. + +MURRAY. Here! Don't you dare talk that way! I won't stand for it. Why, +you've been picking up wonderfully--until just lately. You've made such +a game fight for four months. Even the old Doc has told you how much he +admired your pluck, and how much better you were getting. You're not +going to quit now, are you? + +EILEEN (_despairingly_). Oh, I don't care! I don't care--now. + +MURRAY. Now? What do you mean by that? What's happened to make things +any different? + +EILEEN (_evasively_). Oh--nothing. Don't ask me, Stephen. + +MURRAY (_with sudden anger_). I don't have to ask you. I can guess. +Another letter from home--or from that ass, eh? + +EILEEN (_shaking her head_). No, it isn't that. (_She looks at him as +if imploring him to comprehend._) + +MURRAY (_furiously_). Of course, you'd deny it. You always do. But +don't you suppose I've got eyes? It's been the same damn thing all the +time you've been here. After every nagging letter--thank God they don't +write often any more!--you've been all in; and after their Sunday +visits--you can thank God they've been few, too--you're utterly knocked +out. It's a shame! The selfish swine! + +EILEEN. Stephen! + +MURRAY (_relentlessly._) Don't be sentimental, Eileen. You know it's +true. From what you've told me of their letters, their visits--from +what I've seen and suspected--they've done nothing but worry and +torment you and do their best to keep you from getting well. + +EILEEN (_faintly_). You're not fair, Stephen. + +MURRAY. Rot! When it isn't your father grumbling about expense, it's +the kids, or that stupid housekeeper, or that slick Aleck, Nicholls, +with his cowardly lies. Which is it this time? + +EILEEN (_pitifully_). None of them. + +MURRAY (_explosively_). But him, especially--the dirty cad! Oh, I've +got a rich notion to pay a call on that gentleman when I leave and tell +him what I think of him. + +EILEEN (_quickly_). No--you mustn't ever! He's not to blame. If you +knew---- (_She stops, lowering her eyes in confusion._) + +MURRAY (_roughly_). Knew what? You make me sick, Eileen--always finding +excuses for him. I never could understand what a girl like you could +see---- But what's the use? I've said all this before. You're wasting +yourself on a---- (_Rudely._) Love must be blind. And yet you say you +don't love him, really? + +EILEEN (_shaking her head--helplessly_). But I do--like Fred. We've +been good friends so many years. I don't want to hurt him--his +pride---- + +MURRAY. That's the same as answering no to my question. Then, if you +don't love him, why don't you write and tell him to go to--break it +off? (Eileen _bows her head, but doesn't reply. Irritated,_ Murray +_continues brutally._) Are you afraid it would break his heart? Don't +be a fool! The only way you could do that would be to deprive him of +his meals. + +EILEEN (_springing to her feet--distractedly_). Please stop, Stephen! +You're cruel! And you've been so kind--the only real friend I've had up +here. Don't spoil it all now. + +MURRAY (_remorsefully_). I'm sorry, Eileen. I was only talking. I won't +say another word. (_Irritably._) Still, someone ought to say or do +something to put a stop to---- + +EILEEN (_with a broken laugh_). Never mind. Everything will stop--soon, +now! + +MURRAY (_suspiciously_). What do you mean? + +EILEEN (_with an attempt at a careless tone_). Nothing. If you can't +see---- (_She turns to him with sudden intensity._) Oh, Stephen, if you +only knew how wrong you are about everything you've said. It's all +true; but it isn't that--any of it--any more--that's---- Oh, I can't +tell you! + +MURRAY (_with great interest_). Please do, Eileen! + +EILEEN (_with a helpless laugh_). No. + +MURRAY. Please tell me what it is! Let me help you. + +EILEEN. No. It wouldn't be any use, Stephen. + +MURRAY (_offended_). Why do you say that? Haven't I helped before? + +EILEEN. Yes--but this---- + +MURRAY. Come now! 'Fess up! What is "this"? + +EILEEN. No. I couldn't speak of it here, anyway. They'll all be coming +out soon. + +MURRAY (_insistently_). Then when? Where? + +EILEEN. Oh, I don't know--perhaps never, nowhere. I don't know---- +Sometime before you leave, maybe. + +MURRAY. But I may go to-morrow morning--if I gain weight and Stanton +lets me. + +EILEEN (_sadly_). Yes, I was forgetting--you were going right away. +(_Dully_). Then nowhere, I suppose--never. (_Glancing towards the +dining-room._) They're all getting up. Let's not talk about it any +more--now. + +MURRAY (_stubbornly_). But you'll tell me later, Eileen? You must. + +EILEEN (_vaguely_). Perhaps. It depends---- + + (_The patients, about forty in number, straggle in from the + dining-room by twos and threes, chatting in low tones. The men + and women with few exceptions separate into two groups, the + women congregating in the left right angle of chairs, the men + sitting or standing in the right right angle. In appearance, most + of the patients are tanned, healthy, and cheerful-looking. The + great majority are under middle age. Their clothes are of the + cheap, ready-made variety. They are all distinctly of the + wage-earning class. They might well be a crowd of cosmopolitan + factory workers gathered together after a summer vacation. A + hollow-chestedness and a tendency to round shoulders may be + detected as a common characteristic. A general air of tension, + marked by frequent bursts of laughter in too high a key, seems to + pervade the throng._ Murray _and_ Eileen, _as if to avoid contact + with the others, come over to the right in front of the + dining-room door._) + +MURRAY (_in a low voice_). Listen to them laugh. Did you ever +notice--perhaps it's my imagination--how forced they act on Saturday +mornings before they're weighed? + +EILEEN (_dully_). No. + +MURRAY. Can't you tell me that secret now? No one'll hear. + +EILEEN (_vehemently_). No, no, how could I? Don't speak of it! + + (_A sudden silence falls on all the groups at once. Their eyes, + by a common impulse, turn quickly towards the door to the + hall._) + +A WOMAN (_nervously--as if this moment's silent pause oppressed her._) +Play something, Peters. They ain't coming yet. + + (Peters, _a stupid-looking young fellow with a sly, twisted + smirk which gives him the appearance of perpetually winking his + eye, detaches himself from a group on the right. All join in with + urging exclamations: "Go on, Peters! Go to it! Pedal up, Pete! + Give us a rag! That's the boy, Peters!" etc._) + +PETERS. Sure, if I got time. + + (_He goes to the pianola and puts in a roll. The mingled + conversation and laughter bursts forth again as he sits on the + bench and starts pedalling._) + +MURRAY (_disgustedly_). It's sure good to think I won't have to +listen to that old tin-pan being banged much longer! + + (_The music interrupts him--a quick rag. The patients brighten, + hum, whistle, sway their heads or tap their feet in time to the + tune._ Doctor Stanton _and_ Doctor Simms _appear in the + doorway from the hall. All eyes are turned on them._) + +STANTON (_raising his voice_). They all seem to be here, Doctor. We +might as well start. + + (Mrs. Turner, _the matron, comes in behind them--a stout, + motherly, capable-looking woman with grey hair. She hears_ + Stanton's _remark._) + +MRS. TURNER. And take temperatures after, Doctor? + +STANTON. Yes, Mrs. Turner. I think that's better to-day. + +MRS. TURNER. All right, Doctor. + + (Stanton _and the assistant go out._ Mrs. Turner _advances a step + or so into the room and looks from one group of patients to the + other, inclining her head and smiling benevolently. All force + smiles and nod in recognition of her greeting._ Peters, _at the + pianola, lets the music slow down, glancing questioningly at the + matron to see if she is going to order it stopped. Then, + encouraged by her smile, his feet pedal harder than ever._) + +MURRAY. Look at old Mrs. Grundy's eyes pinned on us! She'll accuse us +of being too familiar again, the old wench! + +EILEEN. Sssh. You're wrong. She's looking at me, not at us. + +MURRAY. At you? Why? + +EILEEN. I ran a temperature yesterday. It must have been over a hundred +last night. + +MURRAY. (_with consoling scepticism_). You're always looking for +trouble, Eileen. How do you know you ran a temp? You didn't see the +stick, I suppose? + +EILEEN. No--but--I could tell. I felt feverish and chilly. It must have +been way up. + +MURRAY. Bosh! If it was you'd have been sent to bed. + +EILEEN. That's why she's looking at me. (_Piteously._) Oh, I do hope I +won't be sent back to bed! I don't know what I'd do. If I could only +gain this morning. If my temp has only gone down! (_Hopelessly._) But I +feel---- I didn't sleep a wink--thinking---- + +MURRAY. (_roughly_). You'll persuade yourself you've got leprosy in a +second. Don't be silly! It's all imagination, I tell you. You'll gain. +Wait and see if you don't. + + (Eileen _shakes her head. A metallic rumble and jangle comes + from the hallway. Everyone turns in that direction with nervous + expectancy._) + +MRS. TURNER (_admonishingly_). Mr. Peters! + +PETERS. Yes, ma'am. + + (_He stops playing and rejoins the group of men on the right. + In the midst of a silence broken only by hushed murmurs of + conversation,_ Doctor Stanton _appears in the hall doorway. + He turns to help his assistant wheel in a Fairbanks scale on + castors. They place the scale against the wall immediately to the + rear of the doorway._ Doctor Simms _adjusts it to a perfect + balance._) + +DOCTOR STANTON (_takes a pencil from his pocket and opens the record +book he has in his hand_). All ready, Doctor? + +DOCTOR SIMMS. Just a second, sir. + + (_A chorus of coughs comes from the impatient crowd, and + handkerchiefs are hurriedly produced to shield mouths._) + +MURRAY (_with a nervous smile_). Well, we're all set. Here's hoping! + +EILEEN. You'll gain, I'm sure you will. You look so well. + +MURRAY. Oh--I--I wasn't thinking of myself, I'm a sure thing. I was +betting on you. I've simply got to gain to-day, when so much depends on +it. + +EILEEN. Yes, I hope you---- (_She falters brokenly and turns away from +him._) + +DOCTOR SIMMS (_straightening up_). All ready, Doctor? + +STANTON (_nods and glances at his book--without raising his +voice--distinctly_). Mrs. Abner. + + (_A middle-aged woman comes and gets on the scale._ Simms + _adjusts it to her weight of the previous week, which_ Stanton + _reads to him from the book in a low voice, and weighs her._) + +MURRAY (_with a relieved sigh_). They're off. (_Noticing_ Eileen's +_downcast head and air of dejection._) Here! Buck up, Eileen! Old Lady +Grundy's watching you--and it's your turn in a second. + + (Eileen _raises her head and forces a frightened smile._ Mrs. + Abner _gets down off the scale with a pleased grin. She has + evidently gained. She rejoins the group of women, chattering + volubly in low tones. Her exultant "gained half a pound" can be + heard. The other women smile their perfunctory congratulations, + their eyes absent-minded, intent on their own worries._ Stanton + _writes down the weight in the book._) + +STANTON. Miss Bailey. (_A young girl goes to the scales._) + +MURRAY. Bailey looks bad, doesn't she? + +EILEEN (_her lips trembling_). She's been losing, too. + +MURRAY. Well, _you're_ going to gain to-day. Remember, now! + +EILEEN (_with a feeble smile_). I'll try to obey your orders. + + (Miss Bailey _goes down off the scales. Her eyes are full of + despondency although she tries to make a brave face of it, + forcing a laugh as she joins the women. They stare at her with + pitying looks and murmur consoling phrases._) + +EILEEN. She's lost again. Oh, I wish I didn't have to get weighed---- + +STANTON. Miss Carmody. + + (Eileen _starts nervously._) + +MURRAY (_as she leaves him_). Remember now! Break the scales! + + (_She walks quickly to the scales, trying to assume an air of + defiant indifference. The balance stays down as she steps up._ + Eileen's _face shows her despair at this._ Simms _weighs her and + gives the poundage in a low voice to_ Stanton. Eileen _steps down + mechanically, then hesitates as if not knowing where to turn, her + anguished eyes flitting from one group to another._) + +MURRAY (_savagely_). Damn! + + (Doctor Stanton _writes the figures in his book, glances sharply + at_ Eileen, _and then nods significantly to_ Mrs. Turner _who is + standing beside him._) + +STANTON (_calling the next_). Miss Doeffler. + + (_Another woman comes to be weighed._) + +MRS. TURNER. Miss Carmody! Will you come here a moment, please? + +EILEEN (_her face growing very pale_). Yes, Mrs. Turner. + + (_The heads of the different groups bend together. Their eyes + follow_ Eileen _as they whisper._ Mrs. Turner _leads her down + front, left. Behind them the weighing of the women continues + briskly. The great majority have gained. Those who have not have + either remained stationary or lost a negligible fraction of a + pound. So, as the weighing proceeds, the general air of smiling + satisfaction rises among the groups of women. Some of them, their + ordeal over, go out through the hall doorway by twos and threes + with suppressed laughter and chatter. As they pass behind_ Eileen + _they glance at her with pitying curiosity._ Doctor Stanton's + _voice is heard at regular intervals calling the names in + alphabetical order: Mrs. Elbing, Miss Finch, Miss Grimes, Miss + Haines, Miss Hayes, Miss Jutner, Miss Linowski, Mrs. Marini, Mrs. + McCoy, Miss McElroy, Miss Nelson, Mrs. Nott, Mrs. O'Brien, Mrs. + Olson, Miss Paul, Miss Petrovski, Mrs. Quinn, Miss Robersi, Mrs. + Stattler, Miss Unger._) + +MRS. TURNER (_putting her hand on_ Eileen's _shoulder--kindly_). You're +not looking so well lately, my dear, do you know it? + +EILEEN (_bravely_). I feel--fine. (_Her eyes, as if looking for +encouragement, seek_ Murray, _who is staring at her worriedly._) + +MRS. TURNER (_gently_). You lost weight again, you know. + +EILEEN, I know--but---- + +MRS. TURNER. This is the fourth week. + +EILEEN. I--I know it is---- + +MRS. TURNER. I've been keeping my eye on you. You seem--worried. Are +you upset about--something we don't know? + +EILEEN (_quickly_). No, no! I haven't slept much lately. That must be +it. + +MRS. TURNER. Are you worrying about your condition? Is that what keeps +you awake? + +EILEEN. No. + +MRS. TURNER. You're sure it's not that? + +EILEEN. Yes, I'm sure it's not, Mrs. Turner. + +MRS. TURNER. I was going to tell you if you were: Don't do it! You +can't expect it to be all smooth sailing. Even the most favourable +cases have to expect these little setbacks. A few days' rest in bed +will start you on the right trail again. + +EILEEN (_in anguish, although she had realised this was coming_). Bed? +Go back to bed? Oh, Mrs. Turner! + +MRS. TURNER (_gently_). Yes, my dear, Doctor Stanton thinks it best. So +when you go back to your cottage---- + +EILEEN. Oh, please--not to-day--not right away! + +MRS. TURNER. You had a temperature and a high pulse yesterday, didn't +you realise it? And this morning you look quite feverish. (_She tries +to put her hand on_ Eileen's _forehead, but the latter steps away +defensively._) + +EILEEN. It's only--not sleeping last night. I was nervous. Oh, I'm sure +it'll go away. + +MRS. TURNER (_consolingly_). When you lie still and have perfect rest, +of course it will. + +EILEEN (_with a longing look over at_ Murray). But not to-day--please, +Mrs. Turner. + +MRS. TURNER (_looking at her keenly_). There is something upsetting +you. You've something on your mind that you can't tell me, is that it? +(Eileen _maintains a stubborn silence._) But think--_can't_ you tell +me? (_With a kindly smile._) I'm used to other people's troubles. I've +been playing mother-confessor to the patients for years now, and I +think I've usually been able to help them. Can't you confide in me, +child? (Eileen _drops her eyes, but remains silent._ Mrs. Turner +_glances meaningly over at_ Murray, _who is watching them whenever he +thinks the matron is not aware of it--a note of sharp rebuke in her +voice._) I think I can guess your secret, my dear, even if you're too +stubborn to tell. This setback is your own fault. You've let other +notions become more important to you than the idea of getting well. And +you've no excuse for it. After I had to warn you a month ago, I +expected _that_ silliness to stop instantly. + +EILEEN (_her face flushed--protesting_). There never was anything. +Nothing like that has anything to do with it. + +MRS. TURNER (_sceptically_). What is it that has, then? + +EILEEN (_lying determinedly_). It's my family. They keep writing--and +worrying me--and---- That's what it is, Mrs. Turner. + +MRS. TURNER (_not exactly knowing whether to believe this or +not--probing the girl with her eyes_). Your father? + +EILEEN. Yes, all of them. (_Suddenly seeing a way to discredit all of +the matron's suspicions--excitedly._) And principally the young man I'm +engaged to--the one who came to visit me several times---- + +MRS. TURNER (_surprised_). So--you're engaged? (Eileen _nods._ Mrs. +Turner _immediately dismisses her suspicions._) Oh, pardon me. I didn't +know that, you see, or I wouldn't---- (_She pats_ Eileen _on the +shoulder comfortingly._) Never mind. You'll tell me all about it, won't +you? + +EILEEN (_desperately_). Yes. (_She seems about to go on, but the matron +interrupts her._) + +MRS. TURNER. Oh, not here, my dear. Now now. Come to my room--let me +see--I'll be busy all the morning--some time this afternoon. Will you +do that? + +EILEEN. Yes. (_Joyfully._) Then I needn't go to bed right away? + +MRS. TURNER. No--on one condition. You mustn't take any exercise. Stay +in your recliner all day and rest and remain in bed to-morrow morning. +And promise me you will rest and not worry any more about things we can +easily fix up between us. + +EILEEN. I promise, Mrs. Turner. + +MRS. TURNER (_smiling in dismissal_). Very well, then. I must speak to +Miss Bailey. I'll see you this afternoon. + +EILEEN. Yes, Mrs. Turner. + + (_The matron goes to the rear where_ Miss Bailey _is sitting + with_ Mrs. Abner. _She beckons to_ Miss Bailey, _who gets up with + a scared look, and they go to the far left corner of the room._ + Eileen _stands for a moment hesitating--then starts to go to_ + Murray, _but just at this moment_ Peters _comes forward and + speaks to_ Murray.) + +PETERS (_with his sly twisted grin_). Say, Carmody musta lost fierce. +Did yuh see the Old Woman handin' her an earful? Sent her back to bed, +I betcha. What d'yuh think? + +MURRAY (_impatiently, showing his dislike_). How the hell do I know? + +PETERS (_sneeringly_). Huh, you don't know nothin' 'bout her, I s'pose? +Where d'yuh get that stuff? Think yuh're kiddin' me? + +MURRAY (_with cold rage before which the other slinks away_). Peters, +the more I see of you the better I like a skunk! If it wasn't for other +people losing weight you couldn't get any joy out of life, could you? +(_Roughly._) Get away from me! (_He makes a threatening gesture._) + +PETERS (_beating a snarling retreat_). Wait 'n' see if yuh don't lose +too, yuh stuck-up boob! + + (_Seeing that_ Murray _is alone again,_ Eileen _starts towards + him, but this time she is intercepted by_ Mrs. Abner, _who stops + on her way out. The weighing of the women is now finished, and + that of the men, which proceeds much quicker, begins._) + +STANTON. Anderson! + + (_Anderson comes to the scales. The men all move down to the + left to wait their turn, with the exception of_ Murray, _who + remains by the dining-room door, fidgeting impatiently, anxious + for a word with_ Eileen.) + +MRS. ABNER (_taking_ Eileen's _arm_). Coming over to the cottage, +dearie? + +EILEEN. Not just this minute, Mrs. Abner. I have to wait---- + +MRS. ABNER. For the Old Woman? You lost to-day, didn't you? Is she +sendin' you to bed, the old devil? + +EILEEN. Yes, I'm afraid I'll have to---- + +MRS. ABNER. She's a mean one, ain't she? I gained this week--half a +pound. Lord, I'm gittin' fat! All my clothes are gittin' too small for +me. Don't know what I'll do. Did you lose much, dearie? + +EILEEN. Three pounds. + +MRS. ABNER. Ain't that awful! (_Hastening to make up for this +thoughtless remark._) All the same, what's three pounds! You can git +them back in a week after you're resting more. You been runnin' a temp, +too, ain't you? (_Eileen nods._) Don't worry about it, dearie. It'll go +down. Worryin's the worst. Me, I don't never worry none. (_She chuckled +with satisfaction--then soberly._) I just been talkin' with Bailey. +She's got to go to bed, too, I guess. She lost two pounds. She ain't +runnin' no temp though. + +STANTON. Barnes! (_Another man comes to the scales._) + +MRS. ABNER (_in a mysterious whisper_). Look at Mr. Murray, dearie. +Ain't he nervous to-day? I don't know as I blame him, either. I heard +the doctor said he'd let him go home if he gained to-day. Is it true, +d'you know? + +EILEEN (_dully_). I don't know. + +MRS. ABNER. Gosh, I wish it was me! My old man's missin' me like the +dickens, he writes. (_She starts to go._) You'll be over to the cottage +in a while, won't you? Me 'n' you'll have a game of casino, eh? + +EILEEN (_happy at this deliverance_). Yes, I'll be glad to. + +STANTON. Cordero! + + (Mrs. Abner _goes out._ Eileen _again starts towards_ Murray, + _but this time_ Flynn, _a young fellow with a brick-coloured, + homely, good-natured face, and a shaven-necked haircut, slouches + back to_ Murray. Eileen _is brought to a halt in front of the + table where she stands, her face working with nervous strain, + clasping and unclasping her trembling hands._) + +FLYNN (_curiously_). Say, Steve, what's this bull about the Doc lettin' +yuh beat it if yuh gain to-day? Is it straight goods? + +MURRAY. He said he might, that's all. (_Impatiently._) How the devil +did that story get travelling around? + +FLYNN (_with a grin_). Wha' d'yuh expect with this gang of skirts +chewin' the fat? Well, here's hopin' yuh come home a winner, Steve. + +MURRAY (_gratefully_). Thanks. (_With confidence._) Oh, I'll gain all +right; but whether he'll let me go or not---- (_He shrugs his +shoulders._) + +FLYNN. Make 'em believe. I wish Stanton'd ask waivers on me. (_With a +laugh._) I oughter gain a ton to-day. I ate enough spuds for breakfast +to plant a farm. + +STANTON. Flynn! + +FLYNN. Me to the plate! (_He strides to the scales._) + +MURRAY. Good luck! + + (_He starts to join_ Eileen, _but_ Miss Bailey, _who has finished + her talk with_ Mrs. Turner, _who goes out to the hall, + approaches_ Eileen _at just this moment._ Murray _stops in his + tracks, fuming. He and_ Eileen _exchange a glance of helpless + annoyance._) + +MISS BAILEY (_her thin face full of the satisfaction of misery finding +company--plucks at_ Eileen's _sleeve_). Say, Carmody, she sent you back +to bed, too, didn't she? + +EILEEN (_absent-mindedly_). I suppose---- + +MISS BAILEY. You suppose? Don't you know? Of course she did. I got to +go, too. (_Pulling_ Eileen's _sleeve._) Come on. Let's get out of here. +I hate this place, don't you? + +STANTON (_calling the next_). Hopper! + +FLYNN (_shouts to_ Murray _as he is going out to the hall_). I hit 'er +for a two-bagger, Steve. Come on now, Bo, and bring me home! 'Atta, +boy! (_Grinning gleefully, he slouches out._ Doctor Stanton _and all +the patients laugh._) + +MISS BAILEY (_with irritating persistence_). Come on, Carmody. You've +got to go to bed, too. + +EILEEN (_at the end of her patience--releasing her arm from the other's +grasp_). Let me alone, will you? I don't have to go to bed now--not +till to-morrow morning. + +MISS BAILEY (_despairingly, as if she couldn't believe her ears_). You +don't have to go to bed? + +EILEEN. Not now--no. + +MISS BAILEY (_in a whining rage_). Why not? You've been running a temp, +too, and I haven't. You must have a pull, that's what! It isn't fair. +I'll bet you lost more than I did, too! What right have you got---- +Well, I'm not going to bed if you don't. Wait 'n' see! + +EILEEN (_turning away, revolted_). Go away! Leave me alone, please. + +STANTON. Lowenstein! + +MISS BAILEY (_turns to the hall door, whining_). All right for you! I'm +going to find out. It isn't square. I'll write home. + + (_She disappears in the hallway._ Murray _strides over to_ + Eileen, _whose strength seems to have left her and who is leaning + weakly against the table._) + +MURRAY. Thank God--at last! Isn't it hell--all these fools! I couldn't +get to you. What did Old Lady Grundy have to say to you? I saw her +giving me a hard look. Was it about us--the old stuff? (Eileen _nods +with downcast eyes._) What did she say? Never mind now. You can tell me +in a minute. It's my turn next. (_His eyes glance towards the scales._) + +EILEEN (_intensely_). Oh, Stephen, I wish you weren't going away! + +MURRAY (_excitedly_). Maybe I'm not. It's exciting--like gambling--if I +win---- + +STANTON. Murray! + +MURRAY. Wait here, Eileen. + + (_He goes to the scales._ Eileen _keeps her back turned. Her body + stiffens rigidly in the intensity of her conflicting emotions. + She stares straight ahead, her eyes full of anguish._ Murray + _steps on the scales nervously. The balance rod hits the top + smartly. He has gained. His face lights up and he heaves a great + sigh of relief._ Eileen _seems to sense this outcome and her head + sinks, her body sags weakly and seems to shrink to a smaller + size._ Murray _gets off the scales, his face beaming with a + triumphant smile._ Doctor Stanton _smiles and murmurs something + to him in a low voice._ Murray _nods brightly; then turns back + to_ Eileen.) + +STANTON. Nathan! (_Another patient advances to the scales._) + +MURRAY (_trying to appear casual_). Well--three rousing cheers! Stanton +told me to come to his office at eleven. That means a final exam--and +release! + +EILEEN (_dully_). So you gained? + +MURRAY. Three pounds. + +EILEEN. Funny--I lost three. (_With a pitiful effort at a smile_.) I +hope you gained the ones I lost. (_Her lips tremble._) So you're surely +going away. + +MURRAY (_his joy fleeing as he is confronted with her sorrow--slowly_). +It looks that way, Eileen. + +EILEEN (_in a trembling whisper broken by rising sobs_). Oh--I'm so +glad--you gained--the ones I lost, Stephen---- So glad! (_She breaks +down, covering her face with her hands, stifling her sobs._) + +MURRAY (_alarmed_). Eileen! What's the matter? (_Desperately._) Stop +it! Stanton'll see you! + + +THE CURTAIN FALLS + + + + +Act Two: Scene Two + + + _Midnight of the same day. A cross-road near the sanatorium. The + main road comes down forward from the right. A smaller road, + leading down from the left, joins it towards left centre._ + + _Dense woods rise sheer from the grass and bramble-grown ditches at + the roadsides. At the junction of the two roads there is a + signpost, its arms pointing towards the right and the left, rear. A + pile of round stones is at the road corner, left forward. A full + moon, riding high overhead, throws the roads into white, shadowless + relief and masses the woods into walls of compact blackness. The + trees lean heavily together, their branches motionless, unstirred + by any trace of wind._ + + _As the curtain rises,_ Eileen _is discovered standing in the + middle of the road, front centre. Her face shows white and clear in + the bright moonlight as she stares with anxious expectancy up the + road to the left. Her body is fixed in an attitude of rigid + immobility as if she were afraid the slightest movement would break + the spell of silence and awaken the unknown. She has shrunk + instinctively as far away as she can from the mysterious darkness + which rises at the roadsides like an imprisoning wall. A sound of + hurried footfalls, muffled by the dust, comes from the road she is + watching. She gives a startled gasp. Her eyes strain to identify + the oncomer. Uncertain, trembling with fright, she hesitates a + second; then darts to the side of the road and crouches down in the + shadow._ + + Stephen Murray _comes down the road from the left. He stops by the + signpost and peers about him. He wears a cap, the peak of which + casts his face into shadow. Finally he calls in a low voice._ + +MURRAY. Eileen! + +EILEEN (_coming out quickly from her hiding-place--with a glad little +cry_). Stephen! At last! (_She runs to him as if she were going to +fling her arms about him, but stops abashed. He reaches out and takes +her hands._) + +MURRAY. At last? It can't be twelve yet. (_He leads her to the pile of +stones on the left._) I haven't heard the village clock. + +EILEEN. I must have come early. It seemed as if I'd been waiting for +ages. I was so anxious---- + +MURRAY. How your hands tremble! Were you frightened? + +EILEEN (_forcing a smile_). A little. The woods are so black--and +queer-looking. I'm all right now. + +MURRAY. Sit down. You must rest. (_In a tone of annoyed reproof._) I'm +going to read you a lecture, young lady. You shouldn't ever have done +this--running a temp and---- Good heavens, don't you want to get well? + +EILEEN (_dully_). I don't know---- + +MURRAY (_irritably_). You make me ill when you talk that way, Eileen. +It doesn't sound like you at all. What's come over you lately? Get a +grip on yourself, for God's sake. I was--knocked out--when I read the +note you slipped me after supper. I didn't get a chance to read it +until late, I was so busy packing, and by that time you'd gone to your +cottage. If I could have reached you any way I'd have refused to come +here, I tell you straight. But I couldn't--and I knew you'd be here +waiting--and--still, I feel guilty. Damn it, this isn't the thing for +you! You ought to be in bed asleep. Can't you look out for yourself? + +EILEEN (_humbly_). Please, Stephen, don't scold me. + +MURRAY. How the devil did you ever get the idea--meeting me here at +this ungodly hour? + +EILEEN. You'd told me about your sneaking out that night to go to the +village, and I thought there'd be no harm this one night--the last +night. + +MURRAY. But I'm well. I've been well. It's different. You---- Honest, +Eileen, you shouldn't lose sleep and tax your strength. + +EILEEN. Don't scold me, please. I'll make up for it. I'll rest all the +time--after you're gone. I just had to see you some way--somewhere +where there weren't eyes and ears on all sides--when you told me after +dinner that Doctor Stanton had examined you and said you could go +to-morrow---- (_A clock in the distant village begins striking._) +Sssh! Listen. + +MURRAY. That's twelve now. You see I was early. + + (_In a pause of silence they wait motionlessly until the last + mournful note dies in the hushed woods._) + +EILEEN (_in a stifled voice_). It isn't to-morrow now, is it? It's +to-day--the day you're going. + +MURRAY (_something in her voice making him avert his face and kick at +the heap of stones on which she is sitting--brusquely_). Well, I hope +you took precautions so you wouldn't be caught sneaking out. + +EILEEN. I did just what you'd told me you did--stuffed the pillows +under the clothes so the watchman would think I was there. + +MURRAY. None of the patients on your porch saw you leave, did they? + +EILEEN. No. They were all asleep. + +MURRAY. That's all right, then. I wouldn't trust any of that bunch of +women. They'd be only too glad to squeal on you. (_There is an +uncomfortable pause._ Murray _seems waiting for her to speak. He looks +about him at the trees, up into the moonlit sky, breathing in the fresh +air with a healthy delight._ Eileen _remains with downcast head, +staring at the road._) It's beautiful to-night, isn't it? Worth losing +sleep for. + +EILEEN (_dully_). Yes. (_Another pause--finally she murmurs faintly._) +Are you leaving early? + +MURRAY. The ten-forty. Leave the San at ten, I guess. + +EILEEN. You're going home? + +MURRAY. Home? You mean to the town? No. But I'm going to see my +sisters--just to say hello. I've got to, I suppose. I won't stay more +than a few days, if I can help it. + +EILEEN. I'm sure--I've often felt--you're unjust to your sisters. +(_With conviction._) I'm sure they must both love you. + +MURRAY (_frowning_). Maybe, in their own way. But what's love without a +glimmer of understanding--a nuisance! They have never seen the real me +and never have wanted to--that's all. + +EILEEN (_as if to herself_). What is--the real you? (Murray _kicks at +the stones impatiently without answering._ Eileen _hastens to change +the subject._) And then you'll go to New York? + +MURRAY (_interested, at once_). Yes. You bet. + +EILEEN. And write more? + +MURRAY. Not in New York, no. I'm going there to take a vacation, and +live, really enjoy myself for a while. I've enough money for that as it +is, and if the other stories you typed sell--I'll be as rich as +Rockefeller. I might even travel---- No, I've got to make good with my +best stuff first. I'll save the travelling as a reward, a prize to +gain. That'll keep me at it. I know what I'll do. When I've had enough +of New York, I'll rent a place in the country--some old farmhouse--and +live alone there and work. (_Lost in his own plans--with pleasure._) +That's the right idea, isn't it? + +EILEEN (_trying to appear enthused_). It ought to be fine for your +work. (_After a pause._) They're fine, those stories you wrote here. +They're--so much like you. I'd know it was you wrote them even if--I +didn't know. + +MURRAY (_pleased_). Wait till you read the others I'm going to do! +(_After a slight pause--with a good-natured grin._) Here I am talking +about myself again! Why don't you call me down when I start that +drivel? But you don't know how good it is to have your dreams coming +true. It'd make an egotist out of anyone. + +EILEEN (_sadly_). No. I don't know. But I love to hear you talk of +yours. + +MURRAY (_with an embarrassed laugh_). Thanks. Well, I've certainly told +you all of them. You're the only one---- (_He stops and abruptly +changes the subject._) You said in your note that you had something +important to tell me. (_He sits down beside her, crossing his legs._) +Is it about your interview with Old Mrs. Grundy this afternoon? + +EILEEN. No, that didn't amount to anything. She seemed mad because I +told her so little. I think she guessed I only told her what I did so +she'd let me stay up, maybe--your last day,--and to keep her from +thinking what she did--about us. + +MURRAY (_quickly, as if he wishes to avoid this subject_). What is it +you wanted to tell me, then? + +EILEEN (_sadly_). It doesn't seem so important now, somehow. I suppose +it was silly of me to drag you out here, just for that. It can't mean +anything to you--much. + +MURRAY (_encouragingly_). How do you know it can't? + +EILEEN (_slowly_). I only thought--you might like to know. + +MURRAY (_interestedly_). Know what? What is it? If I can help---- + +EILEEN. No. (_After a moment's hesitation._) I wrote to him this +afternoon. + +MURRAY. Him? + +EILEEN. The letter you've been advising me to write. + +MURRAY (_as if the knowledge of this alarmed him--haltingly_). You +mean--Fred Nicholls? + +EILEEN. Yes. + +MURRAY (_after a pause--uncomfortably_). You mean--you broke it all +off? + +EILEEN. Yes--for good. (_She looks up at his averted face. He remains +silent. She continues apprehensively._) You don't say anything. I +thought--you'd be glad. You've always told me it was the honourable +thing to do. + +MURRAY (_gruffly_). I know. I say more than my prayers, damn it! (_With +sudden eagerness._) Have you mailed the letter yet? + +EILEEN. Yes. Why? + +MURRAY (_shortly_). Humph. Oh--nothing. + +EILEEN (_with pained disappointment_). Oh, Stephen, you don't think I +did wrong, do you--now--after all you've said? + +MURRAY (_hurriedly_). Wrong? No, not if you were convinced it was the +right thing to do yourself--if you know you don't love him. But I'd +hate to think you did it just on my advice. I shouldn't---- I didn't +mean to interfere. I don't know enough about your relations for my +opinion to count. + +EILEEN (_hurt_). You know all there is to know. + +MURRAY. I didn't mean--anything like that. I know you've been frank. +But him--I don't know him. How could I, just meeting him once? He may +be quite different from my idea. That's what I'm getting at. I don't +want to be unfair to him. + +EILEEN (_bitterly scornful_). You needn't worry. You weren't unfair. +And you needn't be afraid you were responsible for my writing. I'd been +going to for a long time before you ever spoke. + +MURRAY (_with a relieved sigh_). I'm glad of that--honestly, Eileen. I +felt guilty. I shouldn't have knocked him behind his back without +knowing him at all. + +EILEEN. You said you could read him like a book from his letters I +showed you. + +MURRAY (_apologetically_). I know. I'm a fool. + +EILEEN (_angrily_). What makes you so considerate of Fred Nicholls all +of a sudden? What you thought about him was right. + +MURRAY (_vaguely_). I don't know. One makes mistakes. + +EILEEN (_assertively_). Well, I know! You needn't waste pity on him. +He'll be only too glad to get my letter. He's been anxious to be free +of me ever since I was sent here, only he thought it wouldn't be decent +to break it off himself while I was sick. He was afraid of what people +would say about him when they found it out. So he's just gradually +stopped writing and coming for visits, and waited for me to realise. +And if I didn't, I know he'd have broken it off himself the first day I +got home. I've kept persuading myself that, in spite of the way he's +acted, he did love me as much as he could love anyone, and that it +would hurt him if I---- But now I know that he never loved me, that he +couldn't love anyone but himself. Oh, I don't hate him for it. He can't +help being what he is. And all people seem to be--like that, mostly. +I'm only going to remember that he and I grew up together, and that he +was kind to me then when he thought he liked me--and forget all the +rest. (_With agitated impatience._) Oh, Stephen, you know all this I've +said about him. Why don't you admit it? You've read his letters. + +MURRAY (_haltingly_). Yes, I'll admit that was my opinion--only I +wanted to be sure you'd found out for yourself. + +EILEEN (_defiantly_). Well, I have! You see that now, don't you? + +MURRAY. Yes; and I'm glad you're free of him, for your own sake. I knew +he wasn't the person. (_With an attempt at a joking tone._) You must +get one of the right sort--next time. + +EILEEN (_springing to her feet with a cry of pain_). Stephen! + + (_He avoids her eyes, which search his face pleadingly._) + +MURRAY (_mumbling_). He wasn't good enough--to lace your shoes--nor +anyone else, either. + +EILEEN (_with a nervous laugh_). Don't be silly. (_After a pause, +during which she waits hungrily for some word from him--with a sigh of +despair--faintly._) Well, I've told you--all there is. I might as well +go back. + +MURRAY (_not looking at her--indistinctly_). Yes. You mustn't lose too +much sleep. I'll come to your cottage in the morning to say good-bye. +They'll permit that, I guess. + +EILEEN (_stands looking at him imploringly, her face convulsed with +anguish, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the rocks at his feet. Finally +she seems to give up and takes a few uncertain steps up the road +towards the right--in an exhausted whisper_). Good night, Stephen. + +MURRAY (_his voice choked and husky_). Good night, Eileen. + +EILEEN (_walks weakly up the road, but, as she passes the signpost, she +suddenly stops and turns to look again at_ Murray, _who has not moved +or lifted his eyes. A great shuddering sob shatters her pent-up +emotions. She runs back to_ Murray, _her arms outstretched, with a +choking cry_). Stephen! + +MURRAY (_startled, whirls to face her and finds her arms thrown around +his neck--in a terrified tone_). Eileen! + +EILEEN (_brokenly_). I love you, Stephen--you! That's what I wanted to +tell! + + (_She gazes up into his eyes, her face transfigured by the joy + and pain of this abject confession._) + +MURRAY (_wincing as if this were the thing he had feared to hear_). +Eileen! + +EILEEN (_pulling down his head with fierce strength and kissing him +passionately on the lips_). I love you! I will say it! There! (_With +sudden horror._) Oh, I know I shouldn't kiss you! I mustn't! You're +all well--and I---- + +MURRAY (_protesting frenziedly_). Eileen! Damn it! Don't say that! What +do you think I am! + + (_He kisses her fiercely two or three times until she forces a + hand over her mouth._) + +EILEEN (_with a hysterically happy laugh_). No! Just hold me in your +arms--just a little while--before---- + +MURRAY (_his voice trembling_). Eileen! Don't talk that way! +You're--it's killing me. I can't stand it! + +EILEEN (_with soothing tenderness_). Listen, dear--listen--and you +won't say a word--I've so much to say--till I get through--please, will +you promise? + +MURRAY (_between clinched teeth_). Yes--anything, Eileen! + +EILEEN. Then I want to say--I know your secret. You don't love +me--Isn't that it? (Murray _groans._) Sssh! It's all right, dear. You +can't help what you don't feel. I've guessed you didn't--right along. +And I've loved you--such a long time now--always, it seems. And you've +sort of guessed--that I did--didn't you? No, don't speak! I'm sure +you've guessed--only you didn't want to know--that--did you?--when you +didn't love me. That's why you were lying--but I saw, I knew! Oh, I'm +not blaming you, darling. How could I--never! You mustn't look so--so +frightened. I know how you felt, dear. I've--I've watched you. It was +just a flirtation for you at first. Wasn't it? Oh, I know. It was just +fun, and---- Please don't look at me so. I'm not hurting you, am I? I +wouldn't for worlds, dear--you know--hurt you! And then afterwards--you +found we could be such good friends--helping each other--and you wanted +it to stay just like that always, didn't you?--I know--and then I had +to spoil it all--and fall in love with you--didn't I? Oh, it was +stupid--I shouldn't--I couldn't help it, you were so kind and--and +different--and I wanted to share in your work and--and everything. I +knew you wouldn't want to know I loved you--when you didn't--and I +tried hard to be fair and hide my love so you wouldn't see--and I did, +didn't I, dear? You never knew till just lately--maybe not till just +to-day--did you?--when I knew you were going away so soon--and couldn't +help showing it. You never knew before, did you? Did you? + +MURRAY (_miserably_). No. Oh, Eileen--Eileen, I'm so sorry! + +EILEEN (_in heart-broken protest_). Sorry? Oh, no, Stephen, you mustn't +be! It's been beautiful--all of it--for me! That's what makes your +going--so hard. I had to see you to-night--I'd have gone--crazy--if I +didn't know you knew, if I hadn't made you guess. And I thought--if you +knew about my writing to Fred--that--maybe--it'd make some difference. +(Murray _groans--and she laughs hysterically._) I must have been +crazy--to think that--mustn't I? As if that could--when you don't love +me. Sshh! Please! Let me finish. You mustn't feel sad--or anything. +It's made me happier than I've ever been--loving you--even when I did +know--you didn't. Only now--you'll forgive me telling you all this, +won't you, dear? Now, it's so terrible to think I won't see you any +more. I'll feel so--without anybody. + +MURRAY (_brokenly_). But I'll--come back. And you'll be out soon--and +then---- + +EILEEN (_brokenly_). Sshh! Let me finish. You don't know how alone I am +now. Father--he'll marry that housekeeper--and the children--they've +forgotten me. None of them need me any more. They've found out how to +get on without me--and I'm a drag--dead to them--no place for me home +any more--and they'll be afraid to have me back--afraid of catching--I +know she won't want me back. And Fred--he's gone--he never mattered, +anyway. Forgive me, dear--worrying you--only I want you to know how +much you've meant to me--so you won't forget--ever--after you've gone. + +MURRAY (_in grief-stricken tones_). Forget? Eileen! I'll do anything in +God's world---- + +EILEEN. I know--you like me a lot even if you can't love me--don't you? +(_His arms tighten about her as he bends down and forces a kiss on her +lips again._) Oh, Stephen! That was for good-bye. You mustn't come +to-morrow morning. I couldn't bear having you--with people watching. +But you'll write after--often--won't you? (_Heart-brokenly._) Oh, +please do that, Stephen! + +MURRAY. I will! I swear! And when you get out I'll--we'll--I'll find +something. (_He kisses her again._) + +EILEEN (_breaking away from him with a quick movement and stepping back +a few feet_). Good-bye, darling. Remember me--and perhaps--you'll find +out after a time--I'll pray God to make it so! Oh, what am I saying? +Only--I'll hope--I'll hope--till I die! + +MURRAY (_in anguish_). Eileen! + +EILEEN (_her breath coming in tremulous heaves of her bosom_). +Remember, Stephen--if ever you want--I'll do anything--anything you +want--no matter what--I don't care--there's just you and--don't hate +me, dear. I love you--love you--remember! (_She suddenly turns and runs +away up the road._) + +MURRAY. Eileen! (_He starts to run after her, but stops by the signpost +and stamps on the ground furiously, his fists clenched in impotent rage +at himself and at fate. He curses hoarsely._) Christ! + + +THE CURTAIN FALLS + + + + +Act Three + + + _Four months later. An isolation room at the Infirmary with a + sleeping porch at the right of it. Late afternoon of a Sunday + towards the end of October. The room, extending two-thirds of the + distance from left to right, is, for reasons of space economy, + scantily furnished with the bare necessities--a bureau with mirror + in the left corner, rear--two straight-backed chairs--a table with + a glass top in the centre. The floor is varnished hardwood. The + walls and furniture are painted white. On the left, forward, a door + to the hall. On the right, rear, a double glass door opening on the + porch. Farther front two windows. The porch, a screened-in + continuation of the room, contains only a single iron bed, painted + white, and a small table placed beside the bed._ + + _The woods, the leaves of the trees rich in their autumn colouring, + rise close about this side of the Infirmary. Their branches almost + touch the porch on the right. In the rear of the porch they have + been cleared away from the building for a narrow space, and through + this opening the distant hills can be seen with the tree tops + glowing in the sunlight._ + + _As the curtain rises,_ Eileen _is discovered lying in the bed on + the porch, propped up into a half-sitting position by pillows under + her back and head. She seems to have grown much thinner. Her face + is pale and drawn, with deep hollows under her cheek-bones. Her + eyes are dull and lustreless. She gazes straight before her into + the wood with the unseeing stare of apathetic indifference. The + door from the hall in the room behind her is opened, and_ Miss + Howard _enters, followed by_ Bill Carmody, Mrs. Brennan, _and_ + Mary. Carmody's _manner is unwontedly sober and subdued. This air + of respectable sobriety is further enhanced by a black suit, + glaringly new and stiffly pressed, a new black derby hat, and shoes + polished like a mirror. His expression is full of a bitter, if + suppressed, resentment. His gentility is evidently forced upon him + in spite of himself and correspondingly irksome._ Mrs. Brennan _is + a tall, stout woman of fifty, lusty and loud-voiced, with a broad, + snub-nosed, florid face, a large mouth, the upper lip darkened by a + suggestion of moustache, and little round blue eyes, hard and + restless with a continual fuming irritation. She is got up + regardless in her ridiculous Sunday-best._ Mary _appears tall and + skinny-legged in a starched, outgrown frock. The sweetness of her + face has disappeared, giving way to a hang-dog sullenness, a + stubborn silence, with sulky, furtive glances of rebellion directed + at her step-mother._ + +MISS HOWARD (_pointing to the porch_). She's out there on the porch. + +MRS. BRENNAN (_with dignity_). Thank you, ma'am. + +MISS HOWARD (_with a searching glance at the visitors as if to appraise +their intentions_). Eileen's been very sick lately, you know, so be +careful not to worry her about anything. Do your best to cheer her up. + +CARMODY (_mournfully_). We'll try to put life in her spirits, God help +her. (_With an uncertain look at_ Mrs. Brennan.) Won't we, Maggie? + +MRS. BRENNAN (_turning sharply on_ Mary, _who has gone over to examine +the things on the bureau_). Come away from that, Mary. Curiosity killed +a cat. Don't be touchin' her things. Remember what I told you. Or is it +admirin' your mug in the mirror you are? (_Turning to_ Miss Howard _as_ +Mary _moves away from the bureau, hanging her head--shortly._) Don't +you worry, ma'am. We won't trouble Eileen at all. + +MISS HOWARD. Another thing. You mustn't say anything to her of what +Miss Gilpin just told you about her being sent away to the State Farm +in a few days. Eileen isn't to know till the very last minute. It would +only disturb her. + +CARMODY (_hastily_). We'll not say a word of it. + +MISS HOWARD (_turning to the hall door_). Thank you. + + (_She goes out, shutting the door._) + +MRS. BRENNAN (_angrily_). She has a lot of impudent gab, that one, with +her don't do this and don't do that! It's a wonder you wouldn't speak +up to her and shut her mouth, you great fool, and you payin' money to +give her her job. (_Disgustedly._) You've no guts in you. + +CARMODY (_placatingly_). Would you have me raisin' a shindy when +Eileen's leavin' here in a day or more? What'd be the use? + +MRS. BRENNAN. In the new place she's goin' you'll not have to pay a +cent, and that's a blessing! It's small good they've done her here for +all the money they've taken. (_Gazing about the room critically._) It's +neat and clean enough; and why shouldn't it, a tiny room and the lot of +them nothing to do all day but scrub. (_Scornfully._) Two sticks of +chairs and a table! They don't give much for the money. + +CARMODY. Catch them! It's a good thing she's clearin' out of this, and +her worse off after them curin' her eight months than she was when she +came. She'll maybe get well in the new place. + +MRS. BRENNAN (_indifferently_). It's God's will, what'll happen. +(_Irritably._) And I'm thinkin' it's His punishment she's under now for +having no heart in her and never writin' home a word to you or the +children in two months or more. If the doctor hadn't wrote us himself +to come see her, she was sick, we'd have been no wiser. + +CARMODY. Whisht! Don't be blamin' a sick girl. + +MARY (_who has drifted to one of the windows at right--curiously_). +There's somebody in bed out there. I can't see her face. Is it Eileen? + +MRS. BRENNAN. Don't be goin' out there till I tell you, you imp! I must +speak to your father first. (_Coming closer to him and lowering her +voice._) Are you going to tell her about it? + +CARMODY (_pretending ignorance_). About what? + +MRS. BRENNAN. About what, indeed! Don't pretend you don't know. About +our marryin' two weeks back, of course. What else? + +CARMODY (_uncertainly_). Yes--I disremembered she didn't know. I'll +have to tell her, surely. + +MRS. BRENNAN (_flaring up_). You speak like you wouldn't. Is it shamed +of me you are? Are you afraid of a slip of a girl? Well, then, I'm not! +I'll tell her to her face soon enough. + +CARMODY (_angry in his turn--assertively_). You'll not, now! Keep your +mouth out of this and your rough tongue! I tell you I'll tell her. + +MRS. BRENNAN (_satisfied_). Let's be going out to her, then. (_They +move towards the door to the porch._) And keep your eye on your watch. +We mustn't miss the train. Come with us, Mary, and remember to keep +your mouth shut. + + (_They go out on the porch and stand just outside the door + waiting for_ Eileen _to notice them; but the girl in bed + continues to stare into the woods, oblivious to their presence._) + +MRS. BRENNAN (_nudging_ Carmody _with her elbow--in a harsh whisper_). +She don't see us. It's a dream she's in with her eyes open. Glory be, +it's bad she's lookin'. The look on her face'd frighten you. Speak to +her, you! + + (Eileen _stirs uneasily as if this whisper had disturbed her + unconsciously._) + +CARMODY (_wetting his lips and clearing his throat huskily_). Eileen. + +EILEEN (_startled, turns and stares at them with frightened eyes. After +a pause she ventures uncertainly, as if she were not sure hut what +these figures might be creatures of her dream_). Father. (_Her eyes +shift to_ Mrs. Brennan's _face and she shudders._) Mrs. Brennan. + +MRS. BRENNAN (_quickly--in a voice meant to be kindly_). Here we are, +all of us, come to see you. How is it you're feelin' now, Eileen? + + (_While she is talking she advances to the bedside, followed by_ + Carmody, _and takes one of the sick girl's hands in hers._ Eileen + _withdraws it as if stung and holds it out to her father._ Mrs. + Brennan's _face flushes angrily and she draws back from the + bedside._) + +CARMODY (_moved--with rough tenderness patting her hand_). Ah, Eileen, +sure it's a sight for sore eyes to see you again! (_He bends down as if +to kiss her, but, struck by a sudden fear, hesitates, straightens +himself, and shamed by the understanding in_ Eileen's _eyes, grows red +and stammers confusedly._) How are you now? Sure it's the picture of +health you're lookin'. + + (Eileen _sighs and turns her eyes away from him with a resigned + sadness._) + +MRS. BRENNAN. What are you standin' there for like a stick, Mary? +Haven't you a word to say to your sister? + +EILEEN (_twisting her head around and seeing_ Mary _for the first +time--with a glad cry_). Mary! I--why, I didn't see you before! Come +here. + + (Mary _approaches gingerly with apprehensive side glances at_ + Mrs. Brennan, _who watches her grimly._ Eileen's _arms reach out + for her hungrily. She grasps her about the waist and seems trying + to press the unwilling child to her breast._) + +MARY (_fidgeting nervously--suddenly in a frightened whine_). Let me +go! (Eileen _releases her, looks at her face dazedly for a second, then +falls back limply with a little moan and shuts her eyes._ Mary, _who +has stepped back a pace, remains fixed there as if fascinated with +fright by her sister's face. She stammers._) Eileen--you look so--so +funny. + +EILEEN (_without opening her eyes--in a dead voice_). You, too! I never +thought you---- Go away, please. + +MRS. BRENNAN (_with satisfaction_). Come here to me, Mary, and don't be +botherin' your sister. + + (Mary _avoids her step-mother, but retreats to the far end of the + porch where she stands shrunk back against the wall, her eyes + fixed on_ Eileen _with the same fascinated horror._) + +CARMODY (_after an uncomfortable pause, forcing himself to speak_). Is +the pain bad, Eileen? + +EILEEN (_dully--without opening her eyes_). There's no pain. (_There is +another pause--then she murmurs indifferently._) There are chairs in +the room you can bring out if you want to sit down. + +MRS. BRENNAN (_sharply_). We've not time to be sittin'. We've the train +back to catch. + +EILEEN (_in the same lifeless voice_). It's a disagreeable trip. I'm +sorry you had to come. + +CARMODY (_fighting against an oppression he cannot understand, bursts +into a flood of words_). Don't be talking of the trip. Sure we're glad +to take it to get a sight of you. It's three months since I've had a +look at you, and I was anxious. Why haven't you written a line to us? +You could do that without trouble, surely. Don't you ever think of us +at all any more? (_He waits for an answer, but_ Eileen _remains silent +with her eyes closed._ Carmody _starts to walk up and down, talking +with an air of desperation._) You're not asking a bit of news from +home. I'm thinkin' the people out here have taken all the thought of us +out of your head. We're all well, thank God. I've another good job on +the streets from Murphy and one that'll last a long time, praise be! +I'm needin' it surely, with all the expenses--but no matter. Billy had +a raise from his old skinflint of a boss a month back. He's gettin' +seven a week now and proud as a turkey. He was comin' out with us +to-day, but he'd a date with his girl. Sure, he's got a girl now, the +young bucko! What d'you think of him? It's old Malloy's girl he's +after--the pop-eyed one with glasses, you remember--as ugly as a blind +sheep, only he don't think so. He said to give you his love. (Eileen +_stirs and sighs wearily, a frown appearing for an instant on her +forehead._) And Tom and Nora was comin' out too, but Father Fitz had +some doin's or other up to the school, and he told them to be there, so +they wouldn't come with us, but they sent their love to you, too. +They're growin' so big you'd not know them. Tom's no good at the +school. He's like Billy was. I've had to take the strap to him often. +He's always playin' hooky and roamin' the streets. And Nora. (_With +pride._) There's the divil for you! Up to everything she is and no +holdin' her high spirits. As pretty as a picture, and the smartest girl +in her school, Father Fitz says. Am I lyin', Maggie? + +MRS. BRENNAN (_grudgingly_). She's smart enough--and too free with her +smartness. + +CARMODY (_pleased_). Ah, don't be talkin'! She'll know more than the +lot of us before she's grown even. (_He pauses in his walk and stares +down at_ Eileen, _frowning._) Are you sick, Eileen, that you're keepin' +your eyes shut without a word out of you? + +EILEEN (_wearily_). No. I'm tired, that's all. + +CARMODY (_resuming his walk_). And who else is there, let me think? Oh, +Mary--she's the same as ever, you can see for yourself. + +EILEEN (_bitterly_). The same? Oh, no! + +CARMODY. She's grown, you mean? I suppose. You'd notice, not seeing her +so long? + + (_He can think of nothing else to say, but walks up and down with + a restless, uneasy expression._) + +MRS. BRENNAN (_sharply_). What time is it gettin'? + +CARMODY (_fumbles for his watch_). Half-past four, a bit after. + +MRS. BRENNAN. We'll have to leave soon. It's a long jaunt down that +hill in that buggy. + + (_She catches his eye and makes violent signs to him to tell_ + Eileen _what he has come to tell._) + +CARMODY (_after an uncertain pause--clenching his fists and clearing +his throat_). Eileen. + +EILEEN. Yes. + +CARMODY (_irritably_). Can't you open your eyes on me? It's like +talkin' to myself I am. + +EILEEN (_looking at him--dully_). What is it? + +CARMODY (_stammering--avoiding her glance_). It's this, Eileen--me and +Maggie--Mrs. Brennan, that is--we---- + +EILEEN (_without surprise_). You're going to marry her? + +CARMODY (_with an effort_). Not goin' to. It's done. + +EILEEN (_without a trace of feeling_). Oh, so you've been married +already? + + (_Without further comment, she closes her eyes._) + +CARMODY. Two weeks back we were, by Father Fitz. + + (_He stands staring down at his daughter, irritated, perplexed + and confounded by her silence, looking as if he longed to shake + her._) + +MRS. BRENNAN (_angry at the lack of enthusiasm shown by_ Eileen). Let +us get out of this, Bill. We're not wanted, that's plain as the nose on +your face. It's little she's caring about you, and little thanks she +has for all you've done for her and the money you've spent. + +CARMODY (_with a note of pleading_). Is that a proper way to be +treatin' your father, Eileen, after what I've told you? Have you no +heart in you at all? Is it nothin' to you you've a good, kind woman now +for mother? + +EILEEN (_fiercely, her eyes flashing open on him_). No, no! Never! + +MRS. BRENNAN (_plucking at_ Carmody's _elbow. He stands looking at_ +Eileen _helplessly, his mouth open, a guilty flush spreading over his +face_). Come out of here, you big fool, you! Is it to listen to insults +to your livin' wife you're waiting? Am I to be tormented and you never +raise a hand to stop her? + +CARMODY (_turning on her threateningly_). Will you shut your gab? + +EILEEN (_with a moan_). Oh, go away, Father! Please! Take her away! + +MRS. BRENNAN (_pulling at his arm_). Take me away this second or I'll +go on without you and never speak again to you till the day I die! + +CARMODY (_pushes her violently away from him--his fist uplifted_). Shut +your gab, I'm saying! + +MRS. BRENNAN. The divil mend you and yours then! I'm leavin' you. (_She +starts for the door._) + +CARMODY (_hastily_). Wait a bit, Maggie. I'm comin'. (_She goes into +the room, slamming the door, but once inside she stands still, trying +to listen._ Carmody _glares down at his daughter's pale twitching face +with the closed eyes. Finally he croaks in a whining tone of fear._) Is +your last word a cruel one to me this day, Eileen? + + (_She remains silent. His face darkens. He turns and strides out + of the door._ Mary _darts after him with a frightened cry of + "Papa."_ Eileen _covers her face with her hands and a shudder of + relief runs over her body._) + +MRS. BRENNAN (_as_ Carmody _enters the room--in a mollified tone_). So +you've come, have you? Let's go, then? (Carmody _stands looking at her +in silence, his expression full of gloomy rage. She bursts out +impatiently._) Are you comin' or are you goin' back to her? (_She +grabs_ Mary's _arm and pushes her towards, the door to the hall._) Are +you comin' or not, I'm askin'? + +CARMODY (_sombrely--as if to himself_). There's something wrong in the +whole of this--that I can't make out. (_With sudden fury he brandishes +his fists as though defying someone and growls threateningly._) And +I'll get drunk this night--dead, rotten drunk! (_He seems to detect +disapproval in_ Mrs. Brennan's _face, for he shakes his fist at her and +repeats like a solemn oath._) I'll get drunk this night, I'm sayin'! +I'll get drunk if my soul roasts for it--and no one in the whole world +is strong enough to stop me! + + (Mrs. Brennan _turns from him with a disgusted shrug of her + shoulders and hustles_ Mary _out of the door._ Carmody, _after a + second's pause, follows them._ Eileen _lies still, looking out + into the woods with empty, desolate eyes._ Miss Howard _comes + into the room from the hall and goes to the porch, carrying a + glass of milk in her hand._) + +MISS HOWARD. Here's your diet, Eileen. I forgot it until just now. +Sundays are awful days, aren't they? They get me all mixed up in my +work, with all these visitors around. Did you have a nice visit with +your folks? + +EILEEN (_forcing a smile_). Yes. + +MISS HOWARD. You look worn out. I hope they didn't worry you over home +affairs? + +EILEEN. No. + + (_She sips her milk and sets it back on the table with a shudder + of disgust._) + +MISS HOWARD (_with a smile_). What a face! You'd think you were taking +poison. + +EILEEN. I hate it! (_With deep passion._) I wish it was poison! + +MISS HOWARD (_jokingly_). Oh, come now! That isn't a nice way to feel +on the Sabbath. (_With a meaning smile._) I've some news that'll cheer +you up, I bet. (_Archly._) Guess who's here on a visit? + +EILEEN (_startled--in a frightened whisper_). Who? + +MISS HOWARD. Mr. Murray. (Eileen _closes her eyes wincingly for a +moment and a shadow of pain comes over her face._) He just came about +the time your folks did. I saw him for a moment, not to speak to. He +was going to the main building--to see Doctor Stanton, I suppose. +(_Beaming--with a certain curiosity._) What do you think of that for +news? + +EILEEN (_trying to conceal her agitation and assume a casual tone_). He +must have come to be examined. + +MISS HOWARD (_with a meaning laugh_). Oh, I'd hardly say that was his +main reason. He does look much thinner and very tired, though. I +suppose he's been working too hard. (_In business-like tones._) Well, +I've got to get back on the job. (_She turns to the door calling back +jokingly._) He'll be in to see you, of course, so look your prettiest. + + (_She goes out and shuts the door to the porch._ Eileen _gives a + frightened gasp and struggles up in bed as if she wanted to call + the nurse to return. Then she lies back in a state of great + nervous excitement, twisting her head with eager, fearful glances + towards the door, listening, clasping and unclasping her thin + fingers on the white spread. As_ Miss Howard _walks across the + room to the hall door, it is opened and_ Stephen Murray _enters. + A great change is visible in his face. It is much thinner and the + former healthy tan has faded to a sallow pallor. Puffy shadows of + sleeplessness and dissipation are marked under his heavy-lidded + eyes. He is dressed in a well-fitting, expensive dark suit, a + white shirt with a soft collar and bright-coloured tie._) + +MISS HOWARD (_with pleased surprise, holding out her hand_). Hello, Mr. +Murray. + +MURRAY (_shaking her hand--with a forced pleasantness_). How are you, +Miss Howard? + +MISS HOWARD. Fine as ever. It certainly looks natural to see you around +here again--not that I hope you're here to stay, though. (_With a +smile._) I suppose you're on your way to Eileen now. Well, I won't keep +you. I've stacks of work to do. (_She opens the hall door. He starts +for the porch._) Oh, I was forgetting--Congratulations! I've read those +stories--all of us have. They're great. We're all so proud of you. +You're one of our graduates, you know. + +MURRAY (_indifferently_). Oh,--that stuff. + +MISS HOWARD (_gaily_). Don't be so modest. Well, see you later, I hope. + +MURRAY. Yes. Doctor Stanton invited me to stay for supper and I may---- + +MISS HOWARD. Fine! Be sure to! + + (_She goes out._ Murray _walks to porch door and steps out. He + finds_ Eileen's _eyes waiting for him. As their eyes meet she + gasps involuntarily and he stops short in his tracks. For a + moment they remain looking at each other in silence._) + +EILEEN (_dropping her eyes--faintly_). Stephen. + +MURRAY (_much moved, strides to her bedside and takes her hands +awkwardly_). Eileen. (_Then after a second's pause, in which he +searches her face and is shocked by the change illness has +made--anxiously._) How are you feeling, Eileen? (_He grows confused +by her gaze and his eyes shift from hers, which search his face with +wild yearning._) + +EILEEN (_forcing a smile_). Oh, I'm all right. (_Eagerly._) But you, +Stephen? How are you? (_Excitedly._) Oh, it's good to see you again! +(_Her eyes continue fixed on his face pleadingly, questioningly._) + +MURRAY (_haltingly_). And it's sure great to see you again, Eileen. +(_He releases her hand and turns away._) And I'm fine and dandy. I +look a little done up, I guess, but that's only the result of too much +New York. + + (Eileen, _sensing from his manner that whatever she has hoped for + from his visit is not to be, sinks back on the pillows, shutting + her eyes hopelessly, and cannot control a sigh of pain._) + +MURRAY (_turning to her anxiously_). What's the matter, Eileen? You're +not in pain, are you? + +EILEEN (_wearily_). No. + +MURRAY. You haven't been feeling badly lately, have you? Your letters +suddenly stopped--not a line for the past three weeks--and I---- + +EILEEN (_bitterly_). I got tired of writing and never getting any +answer, Stephen. + +MURRAY (_shame-faced_). Come, Eileen, it wasn't as bad as that. You'd +think I never--and I did write, didn't I? + +EILEEN. Right after you left here, you did, Stephen. Lately---- + +MURRAY. I'm sorry, Eileen. It wasn't that I didn't mean to--but--in New +York it's so hard. You start to do one thing and something else +interrupts you. You never seem to get any one thing done when it ought +to be. You can understand that, can't you, Eileen? + +EILEEN (_sadly_). Yes. I understand everything now. + +MURRAY (_offended_). What do you mean by everything? You said that so +strangely. You mean you don't believe---- (_But she remains silent with +her eyes shut. He frowns and takes to pacing up and down beside the +bed._) Why have they got you stuck out here on this isolation porch, +Eileen? + +EILEEN (_dully_). There was no room on the main porch, I suppose. + +MURRAY. You never mentioned in any of your letters---- + +EILEEN. It's not very cheerful to get letters full of sickness. I +wouldn't like to, I know. + +MURRAY (_hurt_). That isn't fair, Eileen. You know I---- How long have +you been back in the Infirmary? + +EILEEN. About a month. + +MURRAY (_shocked_). A month! But you were up and about--on exercise, +weren't you--before that? + +EILEEN. No. I had to stay in bed while I was at the cottage. + +MURRAY. You mean--ever since that time they sent you back--the day +before I left? + +EILEEN. Yes. + +MURRAY. But I thought from the cheery tone of your letters that you +were---- + +EILEEN (_uneasily_). Getting better? I am, Stephen. I'm strong enough +to be up now, but Doctor Stanton wants me to take a good long rest this +time so that when I do get up again I'll be sure---- (_She breaks off +impatiently._) But don't let's talk about it. I'm all right. (Murray +_glances down at her face worriedly. She changes the subject._) You've +been over to see Doctor Stanton, haven't you? + +MURRAY. Yes. + +EILEEN. Did he examine you? + +MURRAY. Yes. (_Carelessly._) Oh, he found me O.K. I'm fine and dandy, +as I said before. + +EILEEN. I'm glad, Stephen. (_After a pause._) Tell about yourself--what +you've been doing. You've written a lot lately, haven't you? + +MURRAY (_frowning_). No. I haven't been able to get down to +it--somehow. There's so little time to yourself once you get to know +people in New York. The sale of the stories you typed put me on easy +street as far as money goes, so I've felt no need---- (_He laughs +weakly._) I guess I'm one of those who have to get down to hard pan +before they get the kick to drive them to hard work. + +EILEEN (_surprised_). Was it hard work writing them up here? You used +to seem so happy just in doing them. + +MURRAY. I was--happier than I've been before or afterwards. +(_Cynically._) But--I don't know--it was a new game to me then and I +was chuck full of illusions about the glory of it. (_He laughs +half-heartedly._) Now I'm hardly a bit more enthusiastic over it than I +used to be over newspaper work. It's like everything else, I guess. +When you've got it, you find you don't want it. + +EILEEN (_looking at him wonderingly--disturbed_). But isn't just the +writing itself worth while? + +MURRAY (_as if suddenly ashamed of himself--quickly_). Yes. Of course +it is. I'm talking like a fool. I'm sore at everything because I'm +dissatisfied with my own cussedness and laziness--and I want to pass +the buck. (_With a smile of cheerful confidence._) It's only a fit. +I'll come out of it all right and get down to brass tacks again. + +EILEEN (_with an encouraging smile_). That's the way you ought to feel. +It'd be wrong--I've read the two stories that have come out so far over +and over. They're fine, I think. Every line in them sounds like you, +and at the same time sounds natural and like people and things you see +every day. Everybody thinks they're fine, Stephen. + +MURRAY (_pleased, but pretending cynicism_). Then they must be rotten. +(_Then with self-assurance._) Well, I've plenty more of those stories +in my head. Every time I think of my home town there seems to be a new +story in someone I've known there. (_Spiritedly._) Oh, I'll pound them +out some time when the spirit moves; and I'll make them so much better +than what I've done so far, you won't recognise them. I feel it's in +me to do it. (_Smiling._) Darn it, do you know just talking about it +makes me feel as if I could sit right down now and start in on one. +Is it the fact I've worked here before--or is it seeing you, Eileen. +(_Gratefully._) I really believe it's you. I haven't forgotten how you +helped me before. + +EILEEN (_in a tone of pain_). Don't, Stephen. I didn't do anything. + +MURRAY (_eagerly_). Yes, you did. You made it possible. I can't tell +you what a help you were. And since I've left the San, I've looked +forward to your letters to boost up my spirits. When I felt down in the +mouth over my own idiocy, I used to re-read them, and they always were +good medicine. I can't tell you how grateful I've felt, honestly! + +EILEEN (_faintly_). You're kind to say so, Stephen--but it was nothing, +really. + +MURRAY. And I can't tell you how I've missed those letters for the past +three weeks. They left a big hole in things. I was worried about +you--not having heard a word. (_With a smile._) So I came to look you +up. + +EILEEN (_faintly. Forcing an answering smile_). Well, you see now I'm +all right. + +MURRAY (_concealing his doubt_). Yes, of course you are. Only I'd a +darn sight rather see you up and about. We could take a walk, +then--through the woods. (_A wince of pain shadows_ Eileen's _face. She +closes her eyes_. Murray _continues softly, after a pause._) You +haven't forgotten that last night--out there--Eileen? + +EILEEN (_her lips trembling--trying to force a laugh_). Please don't +remind me of that, Stephen. I was so silly and so sick, too. My temp +was so high it must have made me--completely crazy--or I'd never +dreamed of doing such a stupid thing. My head must have been full of +wheels because I don't remember anything I did or said, hardly. + +MURRAY (_his pride taken down a peg by this--in a hurt tone_). Oh! +Well--I haven't forgotten and I never will, Eileen. (_Then his face +clears up as if a weight had been taken off his conscience._) Well--I +rather thought you wouldn't take it seriously--afterwards. You were all +up in the air that night. And you never mentioned it in your +letters---- + +EILEEN (_pleadingly_). Don't talk about it! Forget it ever happened. It +makes me feel--(_with a half-hysterical laugh_)--like a fool! + +MURRAY (_worried_). All right, Eileen. I won't. Don't get worked up +over nothing. That isn't resting, you know. (_Looking down at her +closed eyes--solicitously._) Perhaps all my talking has tired you out? +Do you feel done up? Why don't you try and take a nap now? + +EILEEN (_dully_). Yes, I'd like to sleep. + +MURRAY (_clasps her hands gently_). I'll leave you then, I'll drop back +to say good-bye and stay awhile before I go. I won't leave until the +last train. (_As she doesn't answer._) Do you hear, Eileen? + +EILEEN (_weakly_). Yes. You'll come back--to say good-bye. + +MURRAY. Yes. I'll be back sure. + + (_He presses her hand and after a kindly glance of sympathy down + at her face, tiptoes to the door and goes into the room, shutting + the door behind him. When she hears the door shut Eileen + struggles up in bed and stretches her arms after him with an + agonised sob "Stephen!" She hides her face in her hands and sobs + brokenly._ Murray _walks across to the hall door and is about to + go out when the door is opened and_ Miss Gilpin _enters._) + +MISS GILPIN (_hurriedly_). How do you do, Mr. Murray. Doctor Stanton +just told me you were here. + +MURRAY (_as they shake hands--smiling_). How are you, Miss Gilpin? + +MISS GILPIN. He said he'd examined you, and that you were O.K. I'm +glad. (_Glancing at him keenly._) You've been talking to Eileen? + +MURRAY. Just left her this second. She wanted to sleep for a while. + +MISS GILPIN (_wonderingly_). Sleep? (_Then hurriedly._) It's too bad. I +wish I'd known you were here sooner. I wanted very much to talk to you +before you saw Eileen. You see, I knew you'd pay us a visit some time. +(_With a worried smile._) I still think I ought to have a talk with +you. + +MURRAY. Certainly, Miss Gilpin. + +MISS GILPIN (_takes a chair and places it near the hall door_). Sit +down. She can't hear us here. Goodness knows this is hardly the place +for confidences, but there are visitors all over and it'll have to do. +Did you close the door tightly? She mustn't hear me above all. (_She +goes to the porch door and peeps out for a moment; then comes back to +him with flashing eyes._) She's crying! What have you been saying to +her? Oh, it's too late, I know! The fools shouldn't have permitted you +to see her before I---- What has happened out there? Tell me! I must +know. + +MURRAY (_stammering_). Happened? Nothing. She's crying? Why, Miss +Gilpin--you know I wouldn't hurt her for worlds. + +MISS GILPIN (_more calmly_). Intentionally. I know you wouldn't. But +something has happened. (_Then briskly._) We're talking at cross +purposes. Since you don't seem inclined to confide in me, I'll have to +in you. You noticed how badly she looks, didn't you? + +MURRAY. Yes, I did. + +MISS GILPIN (_gravely_). She's been going down hill +steadily--(_meaningly_)--ever since you left. She's in a very serious +state, let me impress you with that. We've all loved her, and felt so +sorry for her and admired her spirit so--that's the only reason she's +been allowed to stay here so long after her time. We've kept hoping +she'd start to pick up--in another day--in another week. But now that's +all over. Doctor Stanton has given up hope of her improving here, and +her father is unwilling to pay for her elsewhere now he knows there's a +cheaper place--the State Farm. So she's to be sent there in a day or +so. + +MURRAY (_springing to his feet--horrified_). To the State Farm! + +MISS GILPIN. Her time here is long past. You know the rule--and she +isn't getting better. + +MURRAY (_appalled_). That means----! + +MISS GILPIN (_forcibly_). Death! That's what it means for her! + +MURRAY (_stunned_). Good God, I never dreamed---- + +MISS GILPIN. With others it might be different. They might improve +under changed surroundings. In her case, it's certain. She'll die. And +it wouldn't do any good to keep her here, either. She'd die here. +She'll die anywhere. She'll die because lately she's given up hope, she +hasn't wanted to live any more. She's let herself go--and now it's too +late. + +MURRAY. Too late? You mean there's no chance--now? (Miss Gilpin _nods._ +Murray _is overwhelmed--after a pause--stammering._) Isn't +there--anything--we can do? + +MISS GILPIN (_sadly_). I don't know. I should have talked to you before +you---- You see, she's seen you now. She knows. (_As he looks mystified +she continues slowly._) I suppose you know that Eileen loves you, don't +you? + +MURRAY (_as if defending himself against an accusation--with confused +alarm_). No--Miss Gilpin. You're wrong, honestly. She may have felt +something like that--once--but that was long ago before I left the San. +She's forgotten all about it since, I know she has. (Miss Gilpin +_smiles bitterly._) Why, she never even alluded to it in any of her +letters--all these months. + +MISS GILPIN. Did you in yours? + +MURRAY. No, of course not. You don't understand. Why--just now--she +said that part of it had all been so silly she felt she'd acted like a +fool and didn't ever want to be reminded of it. + +MISS GILPIN. She saw that you didn't love her--any more than you did in +the days before you left. Oh, I used to watch you then. I sensed what +was going on between you. I would have stopped it then out of pity for +her, if I could have, if I didn't know that any interference would only +make matters worse. And then I thought that it might be only a surface +affair--that after you were gone it would end for her. (_She +sighs--then after a pause._) You'll have to forgive me for speaking to +you so boldly on a delicate subject. But, don't you see, it's for her +sake. I love Eileen. We all do. (_Averting her eyes from his--in a low +voice._) I know how Eileen feels, Mr. Murray. Once--a long time ago--I +suffered as she is suffering--from this same mistake. But I had +resources to fall back upon that Eileen hasn't got--a family who loved +me and understood--friends--so I pulled through. But it spoiled my life +for a long time. (_Looking at him again and forcing a smile._) So I +feel that perhaps I have a right to speak for Eileen who has no one +else. + +MURRAY (_huskily--much moved_). Say anything to me you like, Miss +Gilpin. + +MISS GILPIN (_after a pause--sadly_). You don't love her--do you? + +MURRAY. No--I--I don't believe I've ever thought much of loving +anyone--that way. + +MISS GILPIN (_sadly_). Oh, it's too late, I'm afraid. If we had only +had this talk before you had seen her! I meant to talk to you frankly +and if I found out you didn't love Eileen--there was always the forlorn +hope that you might--I was going to tell you not to see her, for her +sake--not to let her face the truth. For I am sure she continued to +hope in spite of everything, and always would--to the end--if she +didn't see you. I was going to implore you to stay away, to write her +letters that would encourage her hope, and in that way she would never +learn the truth. I thought of writing you all this--but--it's so +delicate a matter--I didn't have the courage. (_With intense grief._) +And now Doctor Stanton's decision to send her away makes everything +doubly hard. When she knows _that_--she will throw everything that +holds her to life--out of the window! And think of it--her dying there +alone! + +MURRAY (_very pale_). Don't! That shan't happen. I can at least save +her from that. I have money enough--I'll make more--to send her to any +place you think---- + +MISS GILPIN. That is something--but it doesn't touch the source of her +unhappiness. If there were only some way to make her happy in the +little time that is left to her! She has suffered so much through you. +Oh, Mr. Murray, can't you tell her you love her? + +MURRAY (_after a pause--slowly_). But she'll never believe me, I'm +afraid, now. + +MISS GILPIN (_eagerly_). But you must make her believe! And you must +ask her to marry you. If you're engaged it will give you the right in +her eyes to take her away. You can take her to some private San. +There's a small place, but a very good one, at White Lake. It's not too +expensive, and it's a beautiful spot, out of the world, and you can +live and work near by. And she'll be happy to the very last. Don't you +think that's something--the best you have--the best you can give in +return for her love for you? + +MURRAY (_slowly--deeply moved_). Yes. (_Then determinedly._) But I +won't go into this thing by halves. It isn't fair to her. I'm going to +marry her--yes, I mean it. I owe her that if it will make her happy. +But to ask her without really meaning it--knowing she--no, I can't do +that. + +MISS GILPIN (_with a sad smile_). I'm glad you feel that way. It +shouldn't be hard now for you to convince her. But I know Eileen. She +will never consent--for your sake--until she is well again. And stop +and think, Mr. Murray. Even if she did consent to marry you right now +the shock--the excitement--it would be suicide for her. I would have to +warn her against it myself; and you wouldn't propose it if you knew the +danger to her in her present condition. She hasn't long to live, at +best. I've talked with Dr. Stanton. I know. God knows I would be the +first one to hold out hope if there was any. There isn't. It's merely a +case of prolonging the short time left to her and making it happy. You +must bear that in mind--as a fact! + +MURRAY (_dully_). All right. I'll remember. But it's hell to +realise---- (_He turns suddenly towards the porch door._) I'll go out +to her now while I feel--that--yes, I know I can make her believe me +now. + +MISS GILPIN. You'll tell me--later on? + +MURRAY. Yes. (_He opens the door to the porch and goes out._ Miss +Gilpin _stands for a moment looking after him worriedly. Then she sighs +helplessly and goes out to the hall._ Murray _steps noiselessly out on +the porch._ Eileen _is lying motionless with her eyes closed._ Murray +_stands looking at her, his face showing the emotional stress he is +under, a great pitying tenderness in his eyes. Then he seems to come to +a revealing decision on what is best to do for he tiptoes to the +bedside and bending down with a quick movement, takes her in his arms +and kisses her._) Eileen! + +EILEEN (_startled at first, resists automatically for a moment_). +Stephen! (_Then she succumbs and lies back in his arms with a happy +sigh, putting both hands to the sides of his face and staring up at him +adoringly._) Stephen, dear! + +MURRAY (_quickly questioning her before she can question him_). You +were fibbing--about that night--weren't you? You do love me, don't you, +Eileen? + +EILEEN (_breathlessly_). Yes--I--but you, Stephen--you don't love me. +(_She makes a movement as if to escape from his embrace._) + +MURRAY (_genuinely moved--with tender reassurance_). Why do you suppose +I came up here if not to tell you I did? But they warned me--Miss +Gilpin--that you were still weak and that I mustn't excite you in any +way. And I--I didn't want--but I had to come back and tell you in spite +of them. + +EILEEN (_convinced--with a happy laugh_). And is that why you acted so +strange--and cold? Aren't they silly to tell you that! As if being +happy could hurt me! Why, it's just that, just you I've needed! + +MURRAY (_his voice trembling_). And you'll marry me, Eileen? + +EILEEN (_a shadow of doubt crossing her face momentarily_). Are you +sure--you want me, Stephen? + +MURRAY (_a lump in his throat--huskily_). Yes. I do want you, Eileen. + +EILEEN (_happily_). Then I will--after I'm well again, of course. (_She +kisses him._) + +MURRAY (_chokingly_). That won't be long now, Eileen. + +EILEEN (_joyously_). No--not long--now that I'm happy for once in my +life. I'll surprise you, Stephen, the way I'll pick up and grow fat and +healthy. You won't know me in a month. How can you ever love such a +skinny homely thing as I am now! (_With a laugh._) I couldn't if I was +a man--love such a fright. + +MURRAY. Sssh! + +EILEEN (_confidently_). But you'll see now. I'll make myself get well. +We won't have to wait long, dear. And can't you move up to the town +near here where you can see me every day, and you can work and I can +help you with your stories just as I used to--and I'll soon be strong +enough to do your typing again. (_She laughs._) Listen to me--talking +about helping you--as if they weren't all your own work, those blessed +stories!--as if I had anything to do with it! + +MURRAY (_hoarsely_). You had! You did! They're yours. (_Trying to calm +himself._) But you mustn't stay here, Eileen. You'll let me take you +away, won't you?--to a better place--not far away--White Lake, it's +called. There's a small private sanatorium there. Doctor Stanton says +it's one of the best. And I'll live near by--it's a beautiful spot--and +see you every day. + +EILEEN (_in the seventh heaven_). And did you plan out all this for +me beforehand, Stephen? (_He nods with averted eyes. She kisses his +hair._) You wonderful, kind dear! And it's a small place--this White +Lake? Then we won't have so many people around to disturb us, will +we? We'll be all to ourselves. And you ought to work so well up +there. I know New York wasn't good for you--alone--without me. And +I'll get well and strong so quick! And you say it's a beautiful +place? (_Intensely._) Oh, Stephen, any place in the world would +be beautiful to me--if you were with me! (_His face is hidden in +the pillow beside her. She is suddenly startled by a muffled +sob--anxiously._) Why--Stephen--you're--you're crying! (_The tears +start to her own eyes._) + +MURRAY _(raising his face which is this time alight with a passionate +awakening--a revelation_). Oh, I do love you, Eileen. I do! I love you, +love you! + +EILEEN (_thrilled by the depth of his present sincerity--but with a +teasing laugh_). Why, you say that as if you'd just made the discovery, +Stephen! + +MURRAY. Oh, what does it matter, Eileen! I love you! Oh, what a blind, +selfish ass I've been! I love you! You are my life--everything! I love +you, Eileen! I do! I do! And we'll be married---- + + (_Suddenly his face grows frozen with horror as he remembers the + doom. For the first time the grey spectre of Death confronts him + face to face as a menacing reality._) + +EILEEN (_terrified by the look in his eyes_). What is it, Stephen? +What----? + +MURRAY (_with a groan--protesting half-aloud in a strangled voice_). +No! No! It can't be----! My God! (_He clutches her hands and hides his +face in them._) + +EILEEN (_with a cry_). Stephen! What is the matter? (_Her face suddenly +betrays apprehension, an intuitive sense of the truth._) Oh--Stephen---- +(_Then with a childish whimper of terror._) Oh, Stephen, I'm going to +die! I'm going to die! + +MURRAY (_lifting his tortured face--wildly_). No! + +EILEEN (_her voice sinking to a dead, whisper_). I'm going to die. + +MURRAY (_seizing her in his arms in a passionate frenzy and pressing +his lips to hers_). No, Eileen, no, my love, no! What are you saying? +What could have made you think it? You--die? Why, of course, we're all +going to die--but--Good God! What damned nonsense! You're getting +well--every day. Everyone--Miss Gilpin--Stanton--everyone told me that. +I swear before God, Eileen, they did! You're still weak, that's all. +They said--it won't be long. You mustn't think that--not now. + +EILEEN (_miserably--unconvinced_). But why did you look at me--that +way--with that awful look in your eyes----? + + (_While she is speaking_ Miss Gilpin _enters the room from the + corridor. She appears worried, agitated. She hurries towards the + porch, but stops inside the doorway, arrested by_ Murray's + _voice._) + +MURRAY (_takes_ Eileen _by the shoulders and forces her to look into +his eyes_). I wasn't thinking about you then---- No, Eileen--not you. I +didn't mean you--but me--yes, me! I couldn't tell you before. They'd +warned me--not to excite you--and I knew that would--if you loved me. + +EILEEN (_staring at him with frightened amazement_). You mean +you--you're sick again? + +MURRAY (_desperately striving to convince her_). Yes. I saw Stanton. I +lied to you before--about that. It's come back on me, Eileen--you see +how I look--I've let myself go. I don't know how to live without you, +don't you see? And you'll--marry me now--without waiting--and help me +to get well--you and I together--and not mind their lies--what they say +to prevent you? You'll do that, Eileen? + +EILEEN. I'll do anything for you---- And I'd be so happy---- (_She +breaks down._) But, Stephen, I'm so afraid. I'm all mixed up. Oh, +Stephen, I don't know what to believe! + +MISS GILPIN (_who has been listening thunderstruck to_ Murray's _wild +pleading, at last summons up the determination to interfere--steps out +on the porch--a tone of severe remonstrance_). Mr. Murray! + +MURRAY (_starts to his feet with wild, bewildered eyes--confusedly_). +Oh--you---- (Miss Gilpin _cannot restrain an exclamation of dismay as +she sees his face wrung by despair._ Eileen _turns her head away with a +little cry, as if she would hide her face in the bedclothes. A sudden +fierce resolution lights up_ Murray's _countenance--hoarsely._) You're +just in the nick of time, Miss Gilpin! Eileen! Listen! You'll believe +Miss Gilpin, won't you? She knows all about it. (Eileen _turns her eyes +questioningly on the bewildered nurse._) + +MISS GILPIN. What----? + +MURRAY (_determinedly_). Miss Gilpin, Doctor Stanton has spoken to you +since he examined me. He must have told you the truth about me. Eileen +doesn't believe me--when I tell her I've got T.B. again. She thinks--I +don't know what. I know you're not supposed to, but can't you make an +exception--in this case? Can't you tell Eileen the truth? + +MISS GILPIN (_stunned by being thus defiantly confronted--stammeringly_). +Mr. Murray! I--I--how can you ask---- + +MURRAY (_quickly_). Eileen has a right to know. She loves me--and +I--I--love her! (_He holds her eyes and speaks with a passion of +sincerity that compels belief._) I love her, do you hear? + +MISS GILPIN (_falteringly_). You--love--Eileen? + +MURRAY. Yes! I do! (_Entreatingly._) So--tell her--won't you? + +MISS GILPIN (_swallowing hard, her eyes full of pity and sorrow fixed +on_ Eileen). Yes--Eileen--it's true. (_She turns away slowly towards +the door._) + +EILEEN (_with a little cry of alarmed concern, stretches out her hands +to_ Murray _protectingly_). Poor Stephen--dear! (_He grasps her hands +and kisses them._) + +MISS GILPIN (_in a low voice_). Mr. Murray. May I speak to you for a +moment? + +MURRAY (_with a look of questioning defiance at her_). Certainly. + +MISS GILPIN (_turns to_ Eileen _with a forced smile_). I won't steal +him away for more than a moment, Eileen. (Eileen _smiles happily._) + +MURRAY (_follows_ Miss Gilpin _into the room. She leads him to the far +end of the room near the door to the hall, after shutting the porch +door carefully behind him. He looks at her defiantly_). Well? + +MISS GILPIN (_in low agitated tones_). What has happened? What is the +meaning--I feel as if I may have done a great wrong to myself--to +you--to her--by that lie. And yet--something impelled me. + +MURRAY (_moved_). Don't regret it, Miss Gilpin! It has saved her--us. +Oh, how can I explain what happened? I suddenly saw--how beautiful and +sweet and good she is--how I couldn't bear the thought of life without +her--her love---- That's all. (_Determinedly._) She must marry me at +once and I will take her away--the far West--any place Stanton thinks +can help. And she can take care of me--as she thinks--and I know she +will grow well as I seem to grow well. Oh Miss Gilpin, don't you see? +No half and half measures--no promises--no conditional engagements--can +help us--help her. We love too much! (_Fiercely, as if defying her._) +But we'll win together. We can! We must! There are things your doctors +cannot value--cannot know the strength of! (_Exultantly._) You'll see! +I'll make Eileen get well, I tell you! Happiness will cure! Love is +stronger than---- (_He suddenly breaks down before the pitying negation +she cannot keep from her eyes. He sinks on a chair, shoulders bowed, +face hidden in his hands, with a groan of despair._) Oh, why did you +give me a hopeless hope? + +MISS GILPIN (_putting her hand on his shoulder--with tender compassion--sadly_). +Isn't everything we know--just that--when you think of it? (_Her face +lighting up with a consoling revelation._) But there must be something +behind it--some promise of fulfilment,--somehow--somewhere--in the +spirit of hope itself. + +MURRAY (_dully_). Yes--but what do words mean to me now? (_Then +suddenly starting to his feet and flinging off her hand with disdainful +strength--violently and almost insultingly._) What damned rot! I tell +you we'll win! We must! Oh, I'm a fool to waste words on you! What can +you know? Love isn't in the materia medica. Your predictions--all the +verdicts of all the doctors--what do they matter to me? This is--beyond +you! And we'll win in spite of you! (_Scornfully._) How dare you use +the word hopeless--as if it were the last! Come now, confess, damn it! +There's always hope, isn't there? What do you _know_? Can you say you +_know_ anything? + +MISS GILPIN (_taken aback by his violence for a moment, finally bursts +into a laugh of helplessness which is close to tears_). I? I know +nothing--absolutely nothing! God bless you both! + + (_She raises her handkerchief to her eyes and hurries out to the + corridor without turning her head._ Murray _stands looking after + her for a moment; then strides out to the porch._) + +EILEEN (_turning and greeting him with a shy smile of happiness as he +comes and kneels by her bedside_). Stephen! (_He kisses her. She +strokes his hair and continues in a tone of motherly, self-forgetting +solicitude._) I'll have to look out for you, Stephen, won't I? From now +on? And see that you rest so many hours a day--and drink your milk when +I drink mine--and go to bed at nine sharp when I do--and obey +everything I tell you--and---- + + +THE CURTAIN FALLS + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Straw, by Eugene O'Neill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRAW *** + +***** This file should be named 22638.txt or 22638.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/6/3/22638/ + +Produced by Martin Agren and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. 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: + + http://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. |