Index
1
2
3
ACT
THREE
SCENE:
The same as Act One.
TIME:
Early afternoon the next day.
LINDA
is sitting in a huge armchair. She has in her hand a
typed manuscriptit
is the first act and a quick outline of the second and third
acts of GAY'S play, Dilemma.
LINDA is just finishing the
last page. Her expression is very grave. She lets the script
fall in her lap. She is lost in profound thought. She is
deeply stirred by an emotion which is undiscoverable till
she expresses it later to GAY
himself. She picks up the script again. She looks at the
last page again. Carefully, she puts the unbound pages
together. She sits a moment. She runs through the script to
see that it is in order. She puts her hand on the first
page, the palm flat. Then she takes the whole sheaf, finds
on the table, beside which she is sitting, the large Manila
envelope in which the script came and carefully puts it back
in the envelope. Abstractedly, she puts the envelope back on
the table and on it a heavy glass paperweight. She gets up
then and walks about the room, thinking. A knock on the
door, right.
LINDAYes?
CLEMENTINE[Voice
from behind the door] Miss Lindy . . .
LINDA[Impatient]
Well, what is it?
CLEMENTINE[Opens
the door an inch and pokes her head through] Dere's a
lady in de lobby.
LINDA[In
despair] But I told you I wasn't home to anybody.
CLEMENTINE[In
the room by this time] I told her dat but she says she
knows you is home!
LINDAWho
is it?
CLEMENTINEMrs.
Smith, she say she is.
LINDA[Not
too surprised] Oh, Mrs. Smith!
CLEMENTINEShe
say to tell you Mandy. Who is dat Mrs. Smith? Does she
belong wid dat Mr. Smith was here yesterday?
LINDA[Answering
mechanically] Wife.
CLEMENTINE[Smelling
a rat] We seem to have dose Smiths in our hair. What's
de matter wid 'em? Ain't dey got no home of dere own?
LINDAJust
what did she say?
CLEMENTINEShe
says it's [Imitating] ab-so-lutely necessaryshe
jest got to come up. Lord, she talks like she's gonner faint
de nex' second. [A moment's pause while LINDA
considers] Is de boss playin' around wid her, Miss
Lindy?
LINDAStop
chattering, Clementine, please. . . .
CLEMENTINEIf
he is, I'll jest nacherly mutilate her!
LINDA[Deciding
quickly] Ask her up.
CLEMENTINEIt's
de first time de boss has stayed out all night on us. Don't
like him doin' dat when he ain't drinkin'.
LINDAReally,
Clementine, you're too impertinent. I'm going to have to let
you go!
CLEMENTINE[Chuckling]
Lord, Miss Lindy, I heard dat befoh. . . . [By this time
she is at the telephone and talks into it] Dere's a Mrs.
Smith callin' on 2103. Send her up to 2104, please. [She
hangs up.]
LINDADid
you call the studio?
CLEMENTINEI
been callin' every ten minutes for two hours while you was
in here readin' dat play. Ef he was out all night he's
probably sleepin' it off.
LINDANot
necessarily. He never answers the telephone.
CLEMENTINESpose
I jest get in a cab and go down to 57th Street an' rout him
out?
LINDAHow
would you get in?
CLEMENTINEDat's
true. He don't answer telephones and he don't answer
doorbells. Dat man's deaf to all kinds of ringin'!
LINDAHe's
not deaf. He's acutely sensitive to the annoyance of the
ringer!
CLEMENTINEI
could find out from de Super ef he's dere.
LINDANo
point. He'd only be irritated.
CLEMENTINEDis
Mandyshe
pretty?
LINDAVery.
CLEMENTINEAh
knows one thingef
he was out last night it wasn't wid dat one.
LINDA[Who
can't resist testing CLEMENTINE'S
logic] What makes you so sure?
CLEMENTINEShe
sounded awful blue, de Lord be praised. An' dat boy called
you up, Miss Lindydat
boy wid de name dat ain't true.
LINDAPym?
CLEMENTINEAh
likes his real namewhat
kinder modder he got to wish a name like dat on him? What is
dat name, Miss Lindy?
LINDANever
mind. [The doorbell rings] There's Mrs. Smith.
CLEMENTINEWhat is dat name? [It bursts on her
suddenly as she gets to hall door] Makepeace. Dat's it!
Oh, Lordy! I calls it to my husband when I wants to get him
mad. . . . Oh, Lordy! Makepeace. . . . [Shrieking with
laughter she goes out through the little hall to admit AMANDA.
LINDA walks up-stage toward
hallway to greet AMANDA as she
comes in. AMANDA is a bit
tense.]
LINDAI'm
very glad to see you.
AMANDADo
forgive me. You must think me terriblypersistent.
LINDANot
at all. I'm very sorry that Clementine told you I was out. I
had some reading to do and I shut off the telephone. [CLEMENTINE
pauses on her way out to scrutinize AMANDA]
Clementine, will you tell them downstairs that I'll take my
calls now?
CLEMENTINE[As
she goes out, right] Yes, Miss Lindy.
AMANDAI
interrupt you then. I shall be only a very few minutes.
LINDANot
at all. I'm quite finished. May I offer you a drink?
AMANDAThank
you, no.
LINDASome
tea then?
AMANDAThank
you very muchI
really don't want anything. The truth is, Miss Paige . . .
LINDAWe'd
gotten beyond formality last night. I thought we had.
Cigarette?
AMANDA[Taking
one] Thank you. [LINDA strikes
a match for her.]
LINDAIt
seems to me a great gap of time since last night. Does it to
you?
AMANDANot
really. I'm afraid I was very rude. I've come to apologize.
LINDAIf
I remember correctly, I was insufferable.
AMANDAOh,
Linda dear, don't say thatyou
make it impossible for me!
LINDANothing
is impossible for you, Mandy. I've come to that conclusion.
I admire you very much. I've thought about you and thought
about you. I concludethat
in our littlediscussion
of last nightyou
were right and I was wrong.
AMANDAYou
are too gracious. . . .
LINDAWhat
is it that I make impossible for you?
AMANDA[After
a moment] To tell youwhat
I have to tell you.
LINDAAfter
the home-truths we exchanged last night, can anything be . .
.
AMANDAI
wish, Linda dear, that I didn't like you so very, very much.
It would make it . . .
LINDAEasier?
AMANDAYes.
Much easier.
LINDAYou
will end, I am sure, by not letting your affection for me
stand in your way. You have such character, Mandy.
AMANDAPlease
don't let's quarrel. I really couldn't bear it.
LINDABut
I am quite sincere, believe me. As I say, I've been thinking
and thinking. And you've opened up for me new vistas,
undermined, so to speak, all the major premises on which
I've based my life. Last night I sat in your living room. I
was determined to fight you for Gay. And suddenly I began to
doubt myself. I began to see myself as odious, destructive,
unadventurous. . . .
AMANDA[Insincere
denial] Linda!
LINDAI
remembered your phrasethe
great occasions love makes. Was I obstructing one of them?
You, I thought, were more audacious than I, more
adventurous, more exploratory. Here you were, willing
recklessly to enlist the impossible, admitting no
limitations, like the successful wonder-workers achieving
miracles by ignoring facts. Supposing that in your library
Gay was giving birthwith
you as accoucheuseto
a masterpiece? This, I thought, might be one of those very
great occasions which love makes, and here was I standing in
the way of it. I wavered. I retreated. I took myself away. .
. .
AMANDAI
came back to apologize to you. You were gone.
LINDAI
came back here and called up Pym. He's a darling, really. He
sat up with me till nearly dawn, holding my hand. I made a
new resolution. . . .
AMANDADid
you?
LINDATo
turn over a new leaf. To praise indiscriminately, to
appreciate and inspire and convert myself, if ever I get the
chance againinto
a general builder-upper! You see what an influence you are,
Mandynot
only on Gayon
me!
AMANDA[With
a wan smile, a little frightened] And have you begun?
LINDAHaven't
had the chance yet.
AMANDA[Perking
up, she doesn't know what has happened since last she saw
GAY] No?
LINDAGay
didn't come back last night.
AMANDA[Greatly
relieved] Oh, didn't he?
LINDANo.
AMANDAYou
haven't seen him, then?
LINDANo.
Haven't you?
AMANDANo.
I'm frightfully worried.
LINDAYou
needn't be.
AMANDAI
was sure he'd be here.
LINDAHe's
at his studio probably.
AMANDAI've
called there. No answer. Suppose something happened to him!
LINDAHe's
all right. I've heard from him.
AMANDA[Unable
to bear it] Did you? Oh, did you really? Did he phone?
LINDANo.
He sent me his play.
AMANDA[Amazed]
Dilemma?
LINDAYes.
There it is. [Points to script on the table] I've
been reading it.
AMANDAWell?
LINDAIt's
only one act really. The last two are just outlined.
AMANDABut
surely you can tell. . . .
LINDAIt's
very interesting.
AMANDA[In
a glow] Interesting! It's marvelous!
LINDAIt's
hard to tellnot
exactly my dish of tea.
AMANDAOf
course not!
LINDADon't
be complacent. . . .
AMANDA[Taking
it as a personal affront] You don't like it!
LINDAIt's
so out of Gay's normal vein that I confess I was a bit
startled!
AMANDA[Carried
away] The boy killing himself at the endto
justify his father's belief that he is deadthe
scene between the father and his dead son, between the girl
and her dead fiancι . . . Isn't it too . . .?
LINDAYes.
It is!
AMANDAI'm
very proud of it. For the first time in my life, Linda, I
feel justified. Can you understand that?
LINDAYes.
AMANDAYou
don't really like it though! I feel you don't. . . .
LINDAI
do. I do. Only . . .
AMANDAYou
don't . . .
LINDAI
had a curious, wretched feeling while I was reading it . . .
AMANDA[Miffed]
As you had no share in its inspiration I can't expect you to
appreciate the play.
LINDAIs
that it? Is that all of it?
AMANDA[Who
is eaten by this] What made him send it to you? He felt
always you wouldn't be sympathetic to it.
LINDAI
was very much surprised to get it.
AMANDAPlease
don't discourage him.
LINDAHaven't
I told you, Mandy, that I amthanks
to youa
reformed character?
AMANDAYou'll
tell him you like it, won't you, that you think it's
wonderful?
LINDAI'll
try.
AMANDA[After
a moment] Linda?
LINDAYes.
. . .
AMANDAI
have something to tell you.
LINDAHave
you?
AMANDAYou'll
think me horrid.
LINDAI
couldn't.
AMANDABut
it's an awful thing to have to tell youI
don't know how to put itI
really don't. . . .
LINDAWhatever
it is I shall know that your motives are irreproachable.
AMANDAYou
are so decent, it makes it all the more . . .
LINDANeverthelesstell
me!
AMANDAWell,
Gay and I . . .
LINDAYes?
AMANDAGay
and I . . .
LINDAI
suspected it.
AMANDANo.
It's not that at all. It's worse. I meanfrom
your point of view. . . .
LINDA[After
a moment, quietly] Are you going to be married?
AMANDA[Unable
to face LINDA] Yes.
LINDA[Very
quietly] Well, my blessings!
AMANDALinda!
I beg you to believe me! I struggled against this! [LINDA
gives her a quick look] Only last nightjust
before he leftI
told him it would be better for us not to see each other any
moreI
begged him to see that he was putting me in a false positionhis
play was well on the waymy
usefulness over. I entreated him to return to youand
suddenly, out of a clear sky, he asked me to marry him.
LINDAInfallible
technique!
AMANDA[Loftily]
That's unworthy of you, Linda.
LINDASorry.
AMANDAI'm
really frightfully worried about Gay. Don't you think
perhaps we'd better try the studio again?
LINDAClementine's
been ringing it for hours. No answer.
AMANDABut
what if something really did happen to him!
LINDAYou
must get used to these little disappearances. Especially as
you're going to marry him. If you find him elusive as a
lover, as a husband, I assure you, he'll be practically
nonexistent. [CLEMENTINE comes in.
She looks, even while she is delivering her message to LINDA,
with wry hostility at AMANDA.]
CLEMENTINEExcuse
me, Miss Lindy. . . .
LINDAYes,
Clementine?
CLEMENTINEMr.
Smith is on de telephone. Is you in or out?
LINDAI'll
speak to him. [LINDA goes to the
telephone. Staring venomously at MANDY,
CLEMENTINE goes out practically
sideways. On the phone] Yes? Not at all. Please do . . .
Any time . . . Of course. Good-bye. [She hangs up.]
AMANDA[Unable
to conceal her astonishment and even her pique] Philo!
Not Philo!
LINDAYes.
AMANDAHe
likes you!
LINDADo
you mind?
AMANDABut
it's so astonishing!
LINDA[Wryly]
Thank you!
AMANDANo,
I didn't mean that. Obviously any man would. You're
entrancing, my
dear. . . .
LINDAThank
you, Mandy!
AMANDABut
if you knew Philo! If you knew how cold and
unresponsive he is!
LINDAHe
indicates a thaw.
AMANDAI
knew last night he liked you. When Robert told me he came
downstairs I couldn't believe it!
LINDAIs
that so irregular?
AMANDAIrregular!
It's a revolution. Once he goes upstairs for the night he
never comes down again. It's never happened. [A moment's
pause. She is very curious] After he came down, what did
you do?
LINDAWe
played backgammon.
AMANDAWhat
did he sayabout
usI
mean about Gay and me?
LINDAVery
little. He's not exactlychatty.
AMANDA[Flatly,
accepting the incredible fact] He likes you! As a matter
of fact, you know, Linda, it just strikes me . . .
LINDAYes?
AMANDAYou
and Philo, you're just made for each other.
LINDADo
you think so?
AMANDABoth
strong, self-reliantmay
I say so?ambitious.
You are neither of you what I callcrepuscular.
. . .
LINDAOh,
Mandy, I love you!
AMANDAYou
know what I mean by that?
LINDAExactly!
AMANDABoth
of you have this in common: you know exactly what you want
and go after it. . . .
LINDAI
shouldn't say, Amanda, that, in your quiet way, you lack
tenacity. [CLEMENTINE comes in
again.]
CLEMENTINEMiss
Lindy . . .
LINDAYes?
CLEMENTINEMr.
Lovell on de telephone. . . .
LINDAI'll
speak to him. [The same exit for CLEMENTINE,
if possible the gaze at MANDY
more malevolent than before. On the phone] Hello, Pym .
. . How are you, you poor boy? [She laughs] Poor
darling, I thought after last night I'd never hear from you
again . . . I gave you an earful, didn't I? . . . What? . .
. of course . . . any time . . . I'm not going out. [She
hangs up] He's really a sweet boy. He sat up with me
last night. I did not feel like being alone. We stayed up
all hours.
AMANDA[Somehow
can't stand all this] You're enormously popular, aren't
you?
LINDAYou
exaggerate.
AMANDAI
envy you. What a radiant career! It must be wonderful to be
an accomplished actress. . . .
LINDAIt
has its limitations.
AMANDATo
appear every night before a thousand people, looking your
best, lit and made up to the best advantageexquisitely
dressed. What a thrilling profession! Mass-seduction
nightly. . . .
LINDAI,
on the other hand, envy your professionwhere
the seduction is individual. . . .
AMANDA[Tragically]
You don't like me, Linda. You don't really like me. I feel
very unhappy about it.
LINDALet's
hope that Gay will compensate you for that!
AMANDAOh,
dear! It's going to be very difficult.
LINDAWhy?
AMANDAPhilo
is so old-fashionedhis
children and all. He'll never give me a divorce. Unless . .
.
LINDAUnless
what?
AMANDAUnless
perhaps . . . I have a curious idea, Lindaa
curious hunchthat
you might persuade Philo.
LINDADo
you really?
AMANDADefinitely.
Why prolong a marriage that has outlived itsvalidity?
You might, I feel sure, shame him by your example.
LINDAI
haven't any grown children in Groton.
AMANDAAll
the more reason. He has his sonshe
has his workhis
life is quite full.
LINDAWhat
makes you think that I am willing to give up Gay?
AMANDA[Generously]
Because you are a big person, Linda!
LINDAIt's
not a question of size. . . .
AMANDAAs
your marriagelike
mineis
sterileI
mean artisticallysurely
you must see how important it is for Gay . . .
LINDAI
am afraid, Mandy, that, where marriage is concerned, I
belong to the willy-nilly school!
AMANDABut
Gay no longer loves you, Linda.
LINDAI
am not convinced.
AMANDAHe
loves me.
LINDAPerhaps
he does.
AMANDAHe
told me so. He asked me to marry him. He has committed
himself.
LINDAIt's
a commitment I do not recognize. I mean to stick to Gayas
long as possible. I think I can survive you, Mandy. . . . I
mean to try! [There is the sound of a door slamming in
the hallway. GAY comes in. He
is aquiver with nervous tension. He has not slept; he has
been drinking but he is not in the least drunk. Since we
last saw him, GAY has undergone
a thousand changes of mood and of planbut
one emotion has remained constant: despair in a conviction
that has crystallized in him that his play is no good. He
would die rather than admit it, but he is here because he
can no longer endure the suspense of waiting for LINDA'S
opinion. He wants it passionately though he has a
sickening conviction of what it will be. He wants to hear it
from her own lips, the death-sentence from her own lips, the
confirmation of his despair, and get it over with. The fact
that MANDY is therenecessarily
delaying the executiondrives
him crazy.]
AMANDA[Joyous
and reproachful at once] Gay! Gay dear! Where have you
been?
GAYWhat
are you doing here?
AMANDAI
was frantic. You were to call me. . . .
GAYI
did.
AMANDAWhen?
GAYJust
now.
AMANDABut
you were to call me at noon. I waited hours. I couldn't get
you at the studio. . . .
GAYI
wasn't at the studio. . . .
AMANDAI
was sure you must be here. . . . I didn't know what to do.
GAYI
resent your spying on me! I won't be spied on! [AMANDA
is staggered. She doesn't know what to do under this
barrage. She is on the verge of tears. In her bewilderment
and despair she turns to LINDA.]
AMANDA[Appealing
for help] Linda . . .
LINDA[Touched
by her bewilderment, pats her] I know, dear!
GAYAnd
don't cry, for God's sake!
LINDA[Quietly
to GAY] She's not me, you know,
Gay. She's not used to your infantile tantrums.
GAYPlease
don't give me any of your Olympian advice. I came here to
packto
get my things out of here once and for all.
AMANDA[Completely
restored by this, smiles through her tears] Really, Gay?
LINDA[Amused,
still patting her] Feel better, dear? [To GAY]
I'll go in and get your things together.
GAYDon't
touch my things!
LINDAVery
well. I shan't touch your things. [To AMANDA]
Never touch his things! [She goes out. GAY
strides about. A pause. Finally, in contrition, GAY
comes to AMANDA.]
GAYI'm
sorry, darling. I'm in a state. You mustn't . . .
AMANDA[Goes
to him, kisses him] Of courseexcuse
me for coming hereit's
just that I was so . . . [She clings to him.]
GAYYou're
an angel. We're going to Spain!
AMANDA[A
little surprised] What?
GAYI
just ran into a newspaper feller in 21just
back from Madrid. Had a hell of a talk with him. We're going
to Spain.
AMANDAWhen?
GAYRight
away.
AMANDABut,
Gayyour
play!
GAYThe
play's no good!
AMANDA[Wounded,
her own child] Gay! How can you talk that way?
GAYNever
mind! The hell with that!
AMANDAYou're
depressed. Everything's been too much for you. You ought to
be left alone for a bit.
GAY[Irritated]
I don't want to be left alone. I've been alone too God-damn
much. It's just that I'm . . . [Pitifully] I've had
no sleep. I can't sleep. . . . Mandy, please forgive me.
AMANDA[Moved]
Oh, Gay, don't ask me to forgive youI
can't bear it.
GAY[Irresolutely]
I've got to get my things out of here. . . .
AMANDAShall
I go home and wait for you?
GAYWait
for me downstairs in the cocktail bar.
AMANDA[Delighted]
Of course I will [She starts out, stops, can't suppress
inquiry that has been gnawing her] Gay . . .
GAY[Abstractedly]
Yes?
AMANDAWhy
did you send Linda the play?
GAY[Furious]
Did she tell you that?
AMANDAYes.
GAY[Off
again] She's a . . . [Controls himself with
difficulty] What did she say about it?
AMANDANot
her dish, she said.
GAY[Insincere
bravery] That's a compliment!
AMANDAOf
course it is. The play is wonderful!
GAYWhat
the hell do you know about it? [She is dumb with surprise
and misery; he is stricken for having said it, at the same
time he is so nervous that he can't stand this interview
another second] Please, darling, I'm a brute. I know I'm
a brute, but I don't mean to be. I'm awfully sorry. There
are moments between people when they shouldn't discuss
anything, when they shouldn't talk, when to exchange any but
the most casual remarks is to run a gauntletlike
yachting in a mined area in war time. Be a darling, Mandy.
Go down to the cocktail bar. Sit on a stool and have a
drink. Presently I'll join you. I'll sit on a stool beside
you and I'll have a drink. We'll be very happy. Well plan
our trip to Spain. [As the incongruity of this strikes
him suddenly he adds with saturnine humor] Pleasure
cruise!
AMANDA[Sees
it is necessary to beat a retreat] How long will you be?
GAYJust
get together some manuscripts and a few books. Won't be ten
minutes. [By this time he has walked her to the hall
door.]
AMANDA[Going
up with him arm in arm] You're not serious about Spain?
GAYWe'll
talk about it.
AMANDA[As
they disappear into little hall] Don't be long, will
you, darling?
GAYFive
minutes. By the time you've finished one cocktail. . . . [A
moment's pause. He is kissing her good-bye. How can she knowsince
he does not in the least suspect it himselfthat
it is a valedictory kiss? We hear the hall door close. He
comes back into the room. At the same time CLEMENTINE
comes in from the right, carrying whiskey bottle, syphon
and glasses on a tray.]
GAY[Pouring
himself a drink at once] Clementine, you're psychic!
CLEMENTINE[Her
voice more falsetto than everat
her most querulous] What do you mean playin' around wid
dat Mrs. Smith?
GAY[His
voice alive with menace] I return, Black Beauty, to
perform one final rite. . . .
CLEMENTINEShe's
so wispy she looks like she won't last out de winter!
GAYOne
final rite, Egeria, which will afford me intense pleasure!
CLEMENTINEShe
talks so gaspywhat
she got? De asthma?
GAYYou
odious barbarian! Another word and I'll eviscerate you.
CLEMENTINE[Faintly
misunderstanding] Don't you go makin' up to me. I'se off
yer!
GAYYou're
fired! Do you hear that? You get out of here right away. My
final official act in this transient establishmentclear
out. This time you're fired for good!
CLEMENTINELord,
boss, de way Miss Lindy feels about you right now you's
lucky ef you ain't fired yosef. I know Miss Lindy and I'm
warnin' you, boss, her patience is jest about run out.
GAY[Murderous]
Oh, it is!
CLEMENTINEYeh,
it is. Better take my tip an' make up to her purty!
GAYGet
out of here before I throw this decanter at you!
CLEMENTINE[Unruffled]
Yeah?
GAYSo
help me!
CLEMENTINELordy,
boss, you's such a lush you'd never throw no decanter while
dere's licker in it.
GAY[With
dignity] What you do not appear to recognize,
Mignonette, is that my mood is exceptional!
CLEMENTINE[Sizing
him up as if for the last time, resigned to the sad fact]
You's jest like my man exacklyfull
o' entertainment but jest nacherly no good. I hate to see
yer go. I'll do what I can fer yer wid Miss Lindy. [She
shuffles out. GAY is left
alone, highball glass in hand. His temper is demonic but
turned in on himselfa
mood of terrific self-torture. Everything appears to have
dropped away from himevery
inner conviction and every objective support. He is lost in
chaos! He walks around the room. His eye catches his
manuscript on the table. He puts down the highball glass,
picks up the envelope and takes out the typed manuscript.
Has LINDA read it all? Has she
scribbled anything in the margins? He finds nothing. Afresh
the certainty weaves through him that this thing is no good,
that he has been over-ambitious and failed, that he has
overextended himself. He puts the script back into the
envelope, methodically, and the envelope back on the table
and the paper-weight on it. He stands there, staring into a
vacant future. LINDA comes in.]
LINDAWhere's
Mandy?
GAYDownstairs
in the cocktail bar.
LINDAI
didn't touch your sacred things. You will find them in their
customary disarray. [A silence] Mandy tells me you're
getting married. Is that true?
GAYYes.
We're going to Spain.
LINDAPeculiar
place for a honeymoon. Why Spain? I might even add, if I
were malicious, why Mandy?
GAY[Vibrating
with anger against her] I'll tell you why! To get away
from you!
LINDABut
the world is wide. . . .
GAY[Passionately]
It's not wide. It's narrow. It's close. It's a closet. And
I've got claustrophobia. I'm shut in it with you. I've got
to get away from you. I've got to break your hold on me. God
damn it, Linda, I've got to marry Mandy or somebody because
it's the only way I can be unfaithful to you!
LINDAThat's
the sweetest thing you ever said to me. Thank you, dear!
GAYYou're
being very funny, aren't you?
LINDANot
at all. I had no idea we were so close. I had no idea we
were in a closet together. I really didn't. I thought you
were unfaithful to me regularly and with ease. I'm delighted
to discover you have to marry to achieve it. It seems
drastica
cumbersome methodbut
I must say I find it highly flattering. Thank you, darling!
GAYHow
easily you fall into these verbal routines I've written for
you so often. They nauseate me! Life isn't that!
LINDAToo
bad. Life is sad and cruel and ugly. Too bad!
GAY[After
a moment] Have you read it?
LINDA[Lost
for the moment in the contemplation of another vista]
What?
GAYDon't
ask me what. You know damn well what!
LINDAOh,
the play. . . .
GAYHave
you read it?
LINDAYes.
GAYWell?
LINDAIt
isn't easy to say in a word.
GAYIf
you lie to me I'll break your neck.
LINDA[Quietly]
I have no intention of lying to you.
GAYWell,
tell me then. Tell me the worst!
LINDAI
was very touched by your sending it to me.
GAYThe
hell with that. I know myself but I want to hear it from
you. I know it's terribleI
knew last nightit
came over me in Mandy's libraryjust
before I came in to talk to youit
came over me in a dreadful . . . What the hell was I doing,
with this idea, with these characters? I knew then it was
terrible!
LINDAIt's
not terrible. That's nonsense and you know it's nonsense. In
a macabre way it's fascinating. And the first act is
wonderfully written.
GAY[Breathing
oxygen suddenly] Linda! You think so? You really think
so?
LINDAOf
course I do. You couldn't write anything terrible.
GAYLinda
darling. . . .
LINDAOnly
. . .
GAYOnly
what . . . [She says nothing; he insists; he hangs on her
pronouncement] Only what?
LINDAI
don't quite see the reason for doing a play like this. What
does it accomplish? Whom does it demolish? It tells bereaved
people who cling to a hope in immortality, because without
it they must give themselves up to despair, that their hope
is an illusion. Why? Why go out of your way to do it?
GAYBecause
the whole notion of immortality is destructive. A powerful
and impotent concept which keeps people from facing reality.
Spiritual dope-taking. People must learn to face the real
world, then perhaps they'll improve it.
LINDAWho
are you to say it's an illusion? How do you know?
GAYI
say it's healthierand
more practicalto
assume that this is all we have.
LINDAI
don't like your last act. Why does the boy have to die?
GAYTo
save his father's face.
LINDAI
hate ghosts on the stage. People aren't necessarily
interesting because they're dead. You write so delightfully
and charmingly for living people; why write lugubriously for
corpses? I hate ghosts on the stage. Even Hamlet's father.
He's quite a bore. And above all, Gay . . .
GAY[Masochistic]
Let me hear ittell
me everything. . . .
LINDAI
feel a revulsion from your play altogether because it is
dominated by the idea of death. . . .
GAYBut
we are living in an era of death. We are pervaded by death.
Death is our hero, our protagonistwar
and deathdeath
and the fear of death. Death purrs over us, a giant
bombing-planeits
shadow over the green pastures, darkening the still waters.
That is why my play is dominated by itbecause
we are.
LINDAWhat
if we are? Why should your play be? One should keep in one's
own mind a little clearing in the jungle of life. One must
laugh.
GAYIt
is easy for us here in America to laugh. We have the
illusion of safety.
LINDAThis
putting of dead people in plays does them a disservice
really, strips them of the dignity of their silence.
Aesthetic body-snatching! We know nothing of death and can
know nothing. When we describe it even, we are describing
life. . . . I beg of you, Gay, don't throw away your
charming gift, don't despise it. . . . Is it more profound
to write of death of which we know nothing than of life of
which we may learn something, which we can illuminate, if
only briefly, with gaiety, with understanding? Gay, I beg of
you, don't turn your back on the gift you have, the instinct
you have, the power you have. . . .
GAY[Morosely]
It's not that. . . . That's not the trouble. . . .
LINDAThen
what?
GAYIt's
that I haven't pulled it off.
LINDAIs
it worth pulling off?
GAYIt
issupremelyif
I could. This is only your way of telling me. . . .
LINDABut,
Gay, I assure you . . .
GAYI
wanted to hear it from your lipsI
wanted confirmation. . . .
LINDAProbably
the play would be produced and received as the profoundest
thing you had donea
masterpiece even. Only I should never be convinced. But who
am I?
GAY[Following
his own conviction] No, I've failed or you wouldn't say
these things. I saw it clearly enough last nightin
Mandy's library
LINDAYou
saw what in Mandy's library?
GAYThat
my play was inadequate to its ideathat
I wasn't equipped to do itindignation
without formpassion
without authorityI
saw exactly what it would benot
tragic, but thin, petulant.
LINDABut
even if it were everything you wanted it to be I still
shouldn't be impressed. I am not impressed by the dead. Your
hero says to the girl that in Spain he learned how to die
and now he will practice what he has learned. . . . That
does not impress methat
he knows how to die. Millions of people know how to dieStoics
and fanaticsthe
insensitive and the robots. In any case it is an art that
sooner or later Nature imposes on all of us. No, the
difficult thing, the admirable thing is to live. That
requires ingenuity, that requires skill, that requires
imaginationthat
is the index of civilizationthe
ability to live, not the ability to die. Don't spin for me
fantasias of death. Imagine for me variations of
life. . . .
GAYI
shall go to Spainwhere
death is not a fantasybut
a reality!
LINDABut
why? Why add to the holocaust? Why?
GAYWhy?
I'll tell you why. Because I'm sick of improvising these
variations on life, as you call them. I'm sick of it! It's a
charming phrasethe
kind of phrase I've written so often for you to say on the
stage. What does it mean actually? Skimming for the eternal
themessex
plus what passes for sophistication. If this thing [He
indicates the manuscript on the table] is no good it's
because I haven't actually been through itI
haven't been through anything. While I'm improvising these
charming variations people are dyingthe
innocents are being slaughtered. And in my personal life I
improvise variations alsoMandy!
No, I'm sick of it, sick of my work, sick of myself. I want
something clear and outside myself to be enlisted for. I'm
sick of the triviality, sick of ringing changes on what I've
already written, sick of the futility. If necessary, I swear
to God, I want it shot out of myself. [A pause.]
LINDAIt's
Mandy thenyou
want to get away from Mandy. Insufficient motive I should
think for going to Spain. . . .
GAYIt's
like you to pick on thatout
of all I've said. . . .
LINDAI
know you so well. You're such a Puritan. You've involved
yourself to the point where you feel you've got to marry
Mandy. That's so unnecessary, really. To avoid marrying
Mandy you're leaving almost the only country left in the
world where one may still live with some independence, with
some decencynot
paralyzed by fear. You should stay here, live here where and
while it is still possible to live. The more inhuman the
rest of the world the more human we. The grosser and more
cruel the others the more scrupulous, the more fastidious,
the more precisely just and delicate we.
GAYThat
reminds me somehow of the aristocrats in the Bastille bowing
to each other on the way to the scaffold.
LINDAThey
are pleasanter to remember than the knitting women.
GAYMannerdivorced
from justicethe
hell with that! [A moment's pause.]
LINDAGay
. . .
GAYYes?
LINDASupposing
I get you out of this mess you've got yourself into with
Mandy. . . .
GAYIt's
no mess. Your assumption that this is the major factor in myin
what I . . .
LINDAI
know. That drives you crazy. Nevertheless I'll get you out
of it.
GAYWhat
makes you think I want to get out of it?
LINDAI
know it worries youand
it should!
GAYWell,
it doesn't. I've asked Mandy to go to Spain with me.
LINDAMandy
in Spain! She'll wait for you in Paris, I promise you, and
shop. Look, darlingdon't
pretend with meyou
don't have to. I know you're worried sick about it. I'll get
you out of it. You won't have to do a thing. . . . And your
friendship can remain intact. Mandy can go right on
inspiring you. Only you can get it at odd moments instead of
in the steady stream which marriage would let you in fora
perpetual shower-bath you couldn't stop. . . .
GAYWell,
if she won't go she won't go. But I've got to, in any case.
I've got to get up against a genuine experience. . . . What
else will I do? I've got nothing to work on. . . . What will
I do? This thing [He indicates manuscript] I'm going
to put away till I've come back. I'll see how it looks to me
then. . . .
LINDA[After
a moment] Gay . . .
GAYWell
. . .
LINDALet's
talk a minute. . . .
GAYI've
got to go in and pack my lousy manuscripts. I get nausea
when I think of
them. . . .
LINDAI
know what you're running away from. Not only Mandybut
yourself. You feel sterile at the moment and that you'll
fill in the vacuum with experience. I know perfectly well
that if you had an idea you were excited about you wouldn't
go. . . .
GAYBut
I haven't an idea I'm excited about. I haven't even an idea.
LINDAI
have.
GAYI
doubt it.
LINDAI
know what you always saythat
no writer ever gets an idea from anyone else that they give
him consciously. But I thinkI
honestly thinkthat
I have onethat
I can give you consciouslyand
it's right up your street.
GAY[Impatient
and skeptical] Well, what is it?
LINDAMandy
and me.
GAYWhat
are you talking about?
LINDAWhy
don't you write a play about Mandy and me? Two opposite
types of women in the life of a man, an artist, a writerthe
builder-upper and the breaker-downerthe
critical faculty versus the clinging vineWhat
Every Woman Knows in reverse.
GAYI
see you allocate to yourself the superior role!
LINDANot
at all. A lot to be said for Mandy. Great crises, she says,
great occasions, great loves make people extend themselvesexceed
their capacitieswhereas
the other womanIis
skeptical, critical. Stay in your little street, I say,
cultivate your gardendon't
try to make a forest out of itif
you are a miniaturist remain content with that and don't
attempt the Michael Angelo frescoesa
playwright like you for instance caught between the upper
and nether millstones of these two points of view. . . .
Which wins out in the end? Whom does he stay with?
GAY[Interested
as a technician] It would depend a good deal, I should
think, on how the builder-upper's advice worked out. . . .
LINDAExactly.
. . .
GAYSupposing,
say, the play he wrote and produced under her influence were
a great success. . . .
LINDAThen
I'd be sunk! Dilemma, saysupposing
it turned out a masterpieceat
least supposing it were called a masterpiece because the
characters are dead. . . . What then?
GAY[Fascinated
for a moment] Might be interesting. . . .
LINDA[Holding
her breath] Right up your street!
GAYWho
would win out?
LINDAWho
would win out!
GAYIf
the play is a success, it's a toss-up.
LINDAOdds
on Mandy.
GAYIf
it weren't, if it stank . . .
LINDAWhat
then?
GAYThen
he'd turn to the builder-upper certainly. . . .
LINDAThink
so? Why?
GAYHe'd
never forgive the wife for being right.
LINDA[Laughing]
Gay darling. . . . That's charming. You could have a lot of
fun with it. Why don't you try it? Please try it!
GAY[Ruminating
the theme] I hate you often because you know more than I
do. Mandy massages my ego. It's very pleasant.
LINDAThere
you are! It's right in your hands. Do it, Gay. Do it for me.
GAYNo.
LINDABut
I'm sure, Gay darling, that you could make a most amusing
comedy out of it!
GAYWhat
if I did?
LINDAWhat's
wrong with an amusing comedy? I'm very much afraid that
Mandy has made you pompous.
GAYWho
cares? People aren't interested in the private lives of
actresses. It's old stuff. People aren't interested in
playwrights. Why should they be? They're interested in
themselvesnot
in the people who write about them. We're such
exhibitionists that we think that because other writers and
other actresses discuss us endlessly that the general public
cares. They don't give a God damn! And they're quite right!
[The telephone rings. LINDA
answers it.]
LINDAOh,
yes. Ask him to come right up please.
GAY[Irritated
at being interrupted in a flight] Who's that?
LINDAPhilo.
GAYWhat
the hell are you doing with that stuffed shirt?
LINDAHe's
less a stuffed shirt than you think. He's recklessly, even
insanely impulsive.
GAYThat
tycoon!
LINDAHe
proposed to me last night.
GAYNo!
LINDAYes.
He did. I was really quite surprised. One never knows about
people. Faηade of a Doric-pillared counting-house outside,
and in . . . He's not a stuffed shirt at all, just
suppressed. I was quite bowled over.
GAY[He
suddenly feels a cold fury of jealousy] Well, why don't
you marry him? Great marriagethe
two critical facultiesthe
two skeptics. You'll produce a lot of question marks!
LINDAOh,
but, Gay, really . . .
GAYI'm
going in to pack my extinct masterpieces! [He goes out.
LINDA is left alone. The
telephone rings again. LINDA
answers it.]
LINDA[Into
phone] Yes, Mandy . . . He'll be right down . . . He's
just finishing packing . . . No, thank you, my dear, I have
a friend coming up . . . In fact it's Philo . . . Yes, I'll
tell Gay. He'll only be a minute now . . . Not at all. [She
hangs up. CLEMENTINE comes in.
CLEMENTINE is distressed.]
CLEMENTINEDe
boss is packin'.
LINDAI
know.
CLEMENTINEIs
he goin' away shu nuff?
LINDAYes.
CLEMENTINEWhere
to?
LINDASomewhereanywhere
. . .
CLEMENTINECan't
you stop him?
LINDANo.
I can't stop him.
CLEMENTINEHe's
a terrible man, but his goin' away is terribler. [The
doorbell.]
LINDAAnswer
it, Clementine.
CLEMENTINE[Shuffling
toward hall] Who all is it? [She goes out into hall,
admitting PHILO a moment later.
CLEMENTINE walks back across the
room scrutinizing PHILO
sideways in her fashion as she does so.]
LINDA[Greets
PHILO] I'm awfully glad to see you . .
. [To CLEMENTINE as CLEMENTINE
goes out] Help Mr. Esterbrook if he needs you,
Clementine. He never can pack anything. He never can find
anything.
CLEMENTINEYes'm.
[CLEMENTINE goes out.]
LINDA[To
PHILO, smiling at him, conscious he
is under a certain strain] How are you, Philo?
PHILOApprehensive.
LINDAReally?
Why? Will you have a drink?
PHILONo,
thank you.
LINDAGay
is going away. Spain.
PHILOWhy?
LINDA[Shrugs
her shoulders] Experience. Fundamental experience.
PHILOForgive
me, but this is romanticism. Literary romanticism. Nonsense.
The wrong kind of nonsense.
LINDAYou
are harsh.
PHILO[After
a moment] Last nightmust
seem fantastic to you.
LINDAProbably
not as fantastic as it seems to you!
PHILOYes.
It is incredible to me also. And yet I went to sleepthinking
of you. I awokethinking
of you. I am forty-eight. That in itself is absurd. And yetafter
two unsuccessful marriagesafter so many years of rigorous
disciplineafter a long renunciation of any idea of personal
happinessI tremble before you.
LINDAI
am very touched.
PHILOI
am glad I told you the truth. I came to see you
yesterdaynot because I wanted to tell you about your
husband and Amandathat meant less than nothing to me. I
came because I wanted to see youto talk to you. I came
because, since I saw you at the Wylers', I could not forget
you. I couldn't get you out of my mind. I thought: I'll go
to see herI'll talk to her and this will cure me. The
effect was the opposite. [He smiles at her] Is this
the onslaught of age? Is this senility?
LINDAYou
can't expect me to think so.
PHILOI
am happy I told you. I am happy you know. It is fantastic. I
know it well. But I am glad, after so many years of the
strictest logic, to have ventured the improbable. [GAY
comes in. He is jealous of PHILO.
He thinks he conceals this by ignoring him.]
GAYWhere's
my passport? Where the devil have you put it?
LINDAI
haven't put it.
GAYI
gave it to you when I came back in July.
LINDAYou
didn't.
GAYThat
impermeable robot of yours doesn't know anything!
LINDAHave
you met Mr. Smith?
GAY[Abruptly]
Hello.
PHILOHow
do you do?
LINDAPerhaps
the passport is in your studio.
GAYIt
can't be. I never took it there.
LINDAThen
look in the little black tin box on the shelf in your
closet. You throw things in there!
GAY[Remembering
that is where he put it] That's it! That's where it is!
[To PHILO abruptly; his
instinct tells him he can find a legitimate issue on which
to fight PHILO in the following
direction; he is bitterly jealous and resentful of what
seems to him PHILO'S assurance]
Are you interested in the Spanish struggle, Mr. Smith?
PHILONot
particularly.
GAY[Just
spoiling for a fight] No?
PHILOI'm
sorry. I'm interested of course as a student of human folly.
But not more than that.
GAYNo
more than that!
LINDA[Desperate
to ward it off] I'm sure, Gay dear, your passport is in
that little box in the closet!
GAYNo,
wait a minute. This is interesting. This beautiful
detachment is interesting. It doesn't arouse your anger that
two aggressive countries are using Spain as a battleground
to fight an undeclared war? That they are slaughtering women
and childrenthat doesn't stir you out of your detachment?
PHILOMy
dear Mr. Esterbrook, I am afraid you see the world not as it
is but as you would like it to be. The history of the human
race is a disgraceful history. Civil war is no new thing in
Spain. They fought the Carlist wars for forty years. They
kill each other because they want tothat is their pastime.
You are like the sentimentalists who divorce the
totalitarian rulers from their peoples. No such divorce is
possible. They have the governments they want, the
governments they deserve. The average man is bloodthirsty
and contemptible. The great satirists, Voltaire and Swift,
knew that. Your indignation is sentimental and romantic. It
is infantile. [A moment's pause. GAY
is trembling with anger. He turns to LINDA.
He speaks very quietly.]
GAYYou
were saying exactly the same things in different words just
a few minutes ago. You two are made for each other
obviously. I see you both cuddled together in a cocoon of
detachment. So happy!
LINDA[Stricken]
GayGay darling . . . please . . .
GAY[Eaten
up] Reallyperfect! [He flings out. A silence.]
PHILO[Finally]
I'm sorry. But he started it. He provoked it. I'm very
sorry. Are you angry with me?
LINDANo.
PHILOYou
are.
LINDANo,
only it's made me see. I'm afraid, Philo, it's made me see .
. .
PHILOWhat?
LINDAI
thoughtafter you spoke to me last nightI thought: well
this might be peace. This might be tranquility and
regularitydeep and quiet thought. I am an actress, but what
I have really always wanted is love, to be loved. I am not a
bohemian by temperament. In fact, I hate it. I am
methodical. I was tired, tired of being buffeted about by
the tantrums of temperament. But I must tell you now and
quickly. No, Philono. It can never bebetween us . . . I
shall wait for Gay to come back. I shall, eternally, wait
for Gay.
PHILOYou
are angry at what I said.
LINDANo,
not angry. You are logical. You are right. I suppose that
Gay is all you saysentimental, romantic, even infantile.
And yet not altogether. Oh, I can't believe it altogether.
People do dreadful things to each other but often they are
made tothey are sent. And there must beI believe
thisthere must be millions in the past and now, millions of
anonymous people who are kind, who ask only to be permitted
to liveall these gentle humble voices unheard and
unrecorded . . . In them one must believe, for them one must
do illogical and quixotic things, for them one mustI use
the expression as a symbolgo to Spain and fight!
PHILOYou
hate me.
LINDAPhilo!
Philo dear!
PHILOYes.
You despise me.
LINDA[Puts
her hand on his arm] It isn't that. It's that you are
independent, you are secure, you are islanded in contempt.
Gay, for all his absurd little faultswhatever he may beGay
feels. He bleeds. You don't bleed, Philo. I must be there,
when he wants me, to staunch his grief.
PHILO[After
a moment. He is stunned and devastated] Yes . . . Yes .
. . Good-bye, Linda.
LINDAGood-bye,
Philo. [She looks at him. His eyes, for a moment, meet
hers. He turns and goes out of the room. LINDA
is left done. She is deeply affected. She makes a little
helpless gesture. CLEMENTINE
comes in.]
CLEMENTINEDat
boy is comin' updat Makepeacehe said you asked 'im . . . [Improvising
little dialogue for herself just because she loves PYM'S
name] Makepeace come to Mamma! Oh, Lord! An' de boss
is ravin' mad, Miss Lindy, he's jest ravin' . . . An' guess
why? 'Cause he kain't find his passport. An' guess why he
kain't find his passport? 'Cause I stole it an' it's right
here. [She takes GAY'S
passport out from her ample bosom. She is delighted with
herself.]
LINDA[Beyond
anger or reproach] Give me that passport!
CLEMENTINE[Giving
it up] Shu nuff. Ef you give him dat passport you's jest
a fool. He kain't go nowhere widout no passport. [The
doorbell rings] Don't give it to 'im, Miss Lindy. He'll
go over dere where dey's fightin' an' get hisself into a
mess o' trouble.
LINDALet
Mr. Lovell in . . . [CLEMENTINE
waddles out through the hall. GAY
comes back. He has forgotten all about the passport. He
feels he has been a little harsh to LINDA.
He is greatly relieved to find PHILO
gone and dying to communicate instantly to LINDA
a new idea about which he is tremendously excited.]
GAYIs
that bastard gone, Linda? Listen, Linda darling, I see it .
. . I think I see it . . .
LINDAHere's
your passport . . .
GAY[Ignoring
that] No, but listen, LindaI've got a terrific idea . .
. [PYM comes in, CLEMENTINE
following. CLEMENTINE stops,
tries to size things up. GAY
gestures impatiently for her to be gone. CLEMENTINE
goes out.]
PYM[To
LINDA] Hello, pet! [Bows formally
to GAY] Mr. Esterbrook, I believe?
GAY[To
PYM] For God's sake, have I got to
cope with you now? I've got to talk to Linda!
PYM[To
GAY] Where Linda is concerned you are
frightfully possessive.
GAYI
beg of you, Pym, don't be light and witty. I've written
lightweight boys like you so often that I can anticipate
your every remark.
PYMYou
are not quite accurate. I recognized myself in your last
playwhich by the way was so light it was imponderableand I
should say the dialogue of the character you imagined to be
me was not so much anticipated as remembered . . . [The
telephone rings. LINDA answers.]
GAY[With
passionate appeal] What the hell kind of a house is
this? . . . Linda, I've got to talk to you. It's important .
. .
LINDAOne
second . . . [At phone] Oh, yes, Mandyoh, I am
sorryYes, I'll tell him. It's been quite hectic here. Gay's
been unable to find his passport. Yes, he's got it now.
Pym's just dropped in. He'd love to come down and have a
drink with you. May he? Yes, I promise you Gay will be down
any minute. He's just about set . . . Of course I
understand. [She hangs up.]
PYM[To
LINDA] Your generosity is excessive.
GAY[To
PYM] I've got to talk to Linda for a
minute . . .
LINDA[Also
appealing to him] Be a darling, Pym. . . .
PYM[Resolutely]
I refuse absolutely to be a darling!
LINDAMandy's
in the cocktail bar. She's been there for hours, waiting for
Gay. You go down and have a drink with her and as soon as
Gay gets there you can come up again. I'll have dinner with
you.
PYMNo.
LINDAOh,
do. I'll love you forever. After all, it's not asking much
for you to hold Mandy's hand for a few minutes.
PYM[With
dignity] I am not a professional hand-holder, Linda. I
don't mind holding your hand here and there because I derive
a certain secondary pleasure from it. But why Mandy's?
LINDABecause
I ask you to.
PYMYou
are the most tyrannical of women. I warn you, one day I will
revolt and your life will be quite empty.
LINDAI
just won't let myself think of it, darling.
PYMIt
will be a brief revolution probably, lasting till you say
hello to me!
GAY[Dolefully]
When I think that I write this kind of small talk for a
living I feel like shooting myself!
LINDAPlease,
darling, for me . . . [She goes to him, kisses him full
on the lips] There!
PYMThis
kiss does not reassure me. It is more clinical than
passionatelike a doctor applying a poultice to a bruise. .
. .
GAYFor
God's sake, Pym . . .
PYM[Tranquilly]
How long will you be?
LINDAI'll
call you any minute.
PYMAll
right. [As he is going] One thing I am grateful to
you for, Gay. It will be so easy to be your successor. I'll
seem so charming. Anybody would! [He goes. GAY
is trembling with excitement.]
GAYLinda
. . .
LINDAYes,
Gay . . .
GAYI
see it!
LINDA[Completely
bewildered] What?
GAYThe
idea. The play. The idea you gave me.
LINDAWhat
idea?
GAYThe
two womenyou and Mandybut I see beyond itway
beyond it . . .
LINDA[Very
excited and very happy. It is too good to be true]
Really? Really? Tell me.
GAYI
see refracted through it the disturbances and the agony of
the times. The whole thing formed in my mindin therejust
nowwhile I was looking for a shoe . . .
LINDAI'm
glad, dear. I'm awfully glad . . .
GAYAnd
I've got a hell of a title for it.
LINDAWhat?
GAYNo
Time for Comedy!
LINDA[Considers
a moment] Not bad!
GAYI
have a feelingI have a feeling, Lindaif only I can pull it
off . . .
LINDAYou
can. I am sure you can!
GAYIt'll
have some weight, some contemporary valueand a wonderful
part for you.
LINDADon't
worry about that. I'm going to revive The School for
Scandal.
GAY[Angry]
Who the hell wants to see The School for Scandal?
What the hell's it got to do with us now?
LINDAIt's
a classic. I've always wanted to do it!
GAYIt's
an anachronism.
LINDAThis
isn't the only momentjust because we're so unfortunate as
to be living in it. There were other timesand we should
remember them. Here's your passport. [She hands him
passport.]
GAYWhat
are you trying to doget rid of me?
LINDA[Lightly]
Why not? [The telephone rings. LINDA
goes to answer it.]
GAYBecause
I love you. [LINDA stops on the way
to the telephone. She turns, looks at GAY,
smiles. She is moved. She does not want to reveal how deeply
she is moved. The telephone rings again.]
LINDA[On
the telephone] Hello . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . Of course
. . . I'll tell him. [GAY knows the
worst. His body stiffens with apprehension. He leaps to his
feet from the couch] It's Mandyfor you.
GAY[Speech
fails him. He makes the inarticulate sounds of a wounded
animal. LINDA is inexorable.
He starts for the phone, cannot face it. He
implores LINDA, he beseeches
her, hoarsely.] What? . . . What? . . .
LINDAYou
ought to know. You've got to write it. It's the curtain for
your last act, isn't it? [GAY
recognizes the wisdom of this: that there is nothing to be
done; that he must face it. He goes to the phone. He picks
up the receiver. He prepares to speak. His face is twisted
in agony. No words come from between his parched lips. LINDA
sits watching him, a knowing smile on her face. In the
eternity of his inarticulateness, the curtain swiftly comes
down.]
Index
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