Part 22 (1/2)

BLANCHE. But if he _won't_?

MASON. He _must_!

RUTH. You must demand his going, Blanche, and I demand it, too, as something due to me.

BLANCHE. Very well. I demand it. Will you go?

[_A moment's silence._

WARDEN. Why don't you speak? [_He presses the electric b.u.t.ton and all the lights come on._ STERLING _is at the doorway at back, about to steal out. There is an exclamation aloud from all of surprise and disgust. The clock strikes the quarter;_ WARDEN _catches hold of_ STERLING'S _arm._]

What's your hurry, d.i.c.k? There goes the quarter hour; you could never catch the eleven-twenty.

STERLING. d.a.m.n you!

[_Facing_ WARDEN _squarely, as_

THE CURTAIN FALLS QUICKLY

ACT III

_At ”The Hermitage,” on the Bronx River, the next afternoon. The house is on the Left, and on the Right and at the back are the green lattice arches. Snow lies thick everywhere, on the benches at the Right and on the little iron table beside it, on the swing between two trees at the Right, in the red boxes of dead shrubs, on the rocks and dried gra.s.s of a ”rookery” in the centre, and on the branches of the trees._ CLARA _comes out from the house, followed by_ TROTTER.

CLARA. Come on and let mama rest awhile--naturally she's excited and tired out, being married so suddenly and away from home. [_She stops beside the swing, taking hold of its side rope with her hand._] It isn't every mother who can elope without her oldest child's consent and have her youngest daughter for a bridesmaid.

[_Laughing._

TROTTER. I hope Mrs. Sterling will forgive me. Perhaps she will when she sees how my money can help your mother and me to get right in with all the smarties!

CLARA. Oh, don't you be too sure about your getting in; it isn't as easy as the papers say! But, anyway, that wouldn't make any difference to Blanche. She was never a climber like mama and me. I suppose that's why she is asked to all sorts of houses through Aunt Ruth that wouldn't let mama and me even leave our cards on the butler!

TROTTER. I thought your mother could go anywhere she liked.

CLARA. Oh, no, she couldn't! if she made you think that, it was only a jolly! Blanche is the only one of us who really went everywhere. Come along, ”_Poppa_,” give me a swing! I haven't had one for years!

[_She sweeps off the snow from the seat of the swing with her hand._

TROTTER. Your mother certainly did represent--

CLARA. [_Sitting in the swing._] Oh, well, now don't blame mama! She couldn't help herself; she always thought you _dreadfully handsome_!

Swing me!

TROTTER. I don't care, anyway. I'm deucedly proud of your mother,--I mean of _my wife_,--and I'd just as lief throw up the whole society business and go off and live happily by ourselves.

CLARA. O dear! I think mama would find that awfully dull. Go on, swing me! [TROTTER _swings her._] Of course, you'll find mama a little different when you see her all the time. You really won't see much more of her, though, than you do now. She doesn't get up till noon, and has her ma.s.seuse for an hour every morning, her manicure and her mental science visitor every other day, and her face steamed three times a week! She has to lie down a lot, too, but you mustn't mind that; you must remember she isn't our age!

TROTTER. [_Swings her._] She _suits_ me!