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ACT ONE

The action takes place in the living room of "BINKIE" NIEBUHR'S pleasant, modest cottage on the estate of KINGDON SEARS on Long Island. A door down right opens on a path to the motor driveway. Between this door and the back wall there is a fireplace. The back wall is almost entirely made up of French windows opening out to the garden. Beyond the garden we see a narrow reach of Long Island Sound and the woods beyond. There is a door leading to the garden at the left of the windows, and to the left of that again a staircase leading to the upper rooms. A door left leads to the dining room and TOGO'S domain. The time is a late spring afternoon in the very recent past. As the curtain rises, TOGO, the Japanese servant, is discovered humming at his work. He straightens magazines and fixes flowers. CHARLES DOW HANLON strolls in. He is white-haired, cherubic, mellow, spry—a cross between Mr. Pym and Lloyd George.

CHARLIE—Hello, Togo.

TOGO—How do you do, Misser Hanlon?

CHARLIE—Is Mr. Niebuhr in?

TOGO—I believe he is resting, Misser Hanlon.

CHARLIE—From what?

TOGO—Shall I see, Misser Hanlon?

CHARLIE—[Faintly sarcastic] Do you think he might spare me a moment of his valuable time?

TOGO—I see, Misser Hanlon.

CHARLIE—Thank you, Togo. [As he is going up to call BINKIE the telephone rings. He answers it, apologizing to CHARLIE.]

TOGO—Excuse, Misser Hanlon.

CHARLIE—Go ahead, Togo—

TOGO—[On the telephone] Yes—Who shall I say is calling, Ma'am? Mrs. Hackett—Daphne Hackett? Yes, Ma'am—I see right away, Ma'am—Excuse please—[Leaves receiver on the table and exits upstairs.]

CHARLIE—[Commenting aloud] The world demands Binkie. [He crosses left to BINKIE'S desk and glances at an open letter lying there. As he hears BINKIE come down the stairs, he turns quickly. BINKIE NIEBUHR is dark, rotund, middle-aged, gentle-voiced. He is unhurried, placid, imperturbable. No one recalls ever having seen BINKIE surprised at anything; he has seen men at their cruelest and at their most amiable; he is prepared at any moment to witness either. At the moment he is prepared with the surface of his mind for the chore of settling DAPHNE HACKETT'S destiny.]

BINKIE—[To CHARLIE] Hello, hello.

CHARLIE—Your clientele is on the telephone.

BINKIE—[On the phone] Yes, Daphne—How are you, my dear?—No, no, my dear, Riga is out of the question. Under no circumstances will I let you get your divorce in Riga—It is protracted, costly and indecisive—No, no, dear, the same holds for Mexico, and I forbid Mexico—What is your objection to Reno?—That, my dear Daphne, need not worry you—I'll see that Daniello doesn't sail without you—I'll keep him near you—I'll see that Abe Kreuger invites him to a hunting party in Manitoba—I'm aware that Abe doesn't like Daniello—Nevertheless he will invite him. Think no more about it—Not at all—By the way, Daphne—I hear you're having your Aiken place redone while you're away—I wish you'd give the job to a young friend of mine, Maurice Goldbeck—He is quite original, brilliant in fact, and comparatively honest—that is to say, he will cheat you only moderately—Yes, I know you'll be pleased with him—All right, Daphne—Leave the Daniello thing to me—Good-bye, my dear. [He hangs up. He puts in his little book the Kreuger-Daniello memorandum] Excuse me, Charlie.

CHARLIE—Take your time, Binkie.

BINKIE—[On the phone again] Hello—Davidson? I want you to send a cable for me please. Ready? To Maurice Goldbeck, care of the Marchesa Strozzi, Villa Borghese, Florence, Italy. Dear Maurice, Have a nice commission for you to redecorate the Hackett place at Aiken stop sail as soon as you finish with the dear Marchesa stop give her my love and ask if she will allow poor Lucy Gardner to use the Villa Borghese in October stop I vouch for Lucy stop embrace you. Binkie. That's all, Davidson. Send it collect. [Hangs up, makes entries in notebook.]

CHARLIE—Endless chain. What will Lucy Gardner do for you, Binkie?

BINKIE—[Sits, stamping letters] What would have happened to you, Charlie, if Kingdom Sears hadn't endowed you so you could go on writing?—That stopped you, didn't it? Don't you regret Smiley? Don't you miss Smiley?

CHARLIE—Not at all. I think how, had I continued, I should have surpassed myself, luxuriated in new and lovely forms.

BINKIE—[A look at CHARLIE] You were immortal at 40. Once you get immortality, what more can you do?

CHARLIE—You can get it twice, but then I'm not greedy. Oh, Binkie.

BINKIE—Yes, Charlie, what can I do for you?

CHARLIE—I wondered how long you were staying on here, that's all.

BINKIE—I'm not sure. I've been here longer than I meant to. Abe Kreuger wants me in North Carolina, Marie Levis keeps phoning from Newport—I loathe Newport—and Laddy wants me here—The truth is—I'm not the man I was, Charlie. I can't make the visits I used to. It's too fatiguing.

CHARLIE—The truth is you like it pretty well here.

BINKIE—Compared with you, Charlie, I'm just a fly-by-night. Laddy's father invited you down here for the week-end in 1913 and you haven't been off the place since.

CHARLIE—I gather you're not leaving soon then.

BINKIE—No. Why?

CHARLIE—My nephew is coming today.

BINKIE—Is he?

CHARLIE—My only living relative.

BINKIE—What's he like?

CHARLIE—I haven't seen him since he was a little boy. He's been working for Ryder Gerrard on his paper in Santa Fe. I believe he has what they call promise. I thought I'd look him over.

BINKIE—[Turning] And you also thought if I were leaving you'd put him in this cottage.

CHARLIE—I didn't think you'd mind.

BINKIE—I know you regard my presence here as superfluous, but unfortunately I'm not leaving. Anyway, Charlie, your cottage is much bigger than this one.

CHARLIE—I know, except that I am a solitary, while you are gregarious.

BINKIE—My gregariousness does not extend to young men with promise.

CHARLIE—No? Only to young ladies with promise—like Miss Wilda Doran.

BINKIE—[Without emphasis] Miss Doran is a charming and talented young woman.

CHARLIE—You are trying, I gather, to interest Laddy in a film venture to star Miss Doran.

BINKIE—[Tranquilly] Experts like Leo Traub think she has a future in pictures.

CHARLIE—Why do you lavish Miss Doran's magnificent future on an amateur like Laddy?

BINKIE—He's tried everything else. Hunting improbable animals in Africa, creating unnecessary St. Moritzes in Wyoming. Why not a film?

CHARLIE—I suspect, Binkie, that as far as Miss Doran is concerned the film is merely a means, not an end.

BINKIE—Charlie, what have you got against Miss Doran, except that she's my protégée?

CHARLIE—[With a charming smile] It's almost enough, Binkie.

BINKIE—Tell me, Charlie. Why is it that as they grow older professional humorists get more and more bitter? Look at Mark Twain. Why is it, Charlie? Have you any theory to account for that? [WILDA DORAN, very excited, comes into the room. She is lovely, dark, young, what is evasively called "exotic" in type. She is radiant, quivering with impatience against all the impediments life has put in her path—including this one that BINKIE should be engaged with someone else when she is bursting to talk to him.]

WILDA—[Gulping her disappointment] Binkie! Oh, hello, Mr. Hanlon. Oh, Binkie, I've seen the test, Binkie, and I haven't got money to pay the taxi—I came all the way out from Astoria—I was too impatient to stop at the Big House.

BINKIE—How much is it?

WILDA—$3.85.

BINKIE—$3.85 is a sum I haven't got.

CHARLIE—Never mind. I'll take care of him.

WILDA—Oh, no! You mustn't let him, Binkie.

BINKIE—I don't believe in frustrating people.

WILDA—I'll pay you back, Mr. Hanlon.

CHARLIE—I haven't paid a pretty girl's cab fare in years. It sets me up.

WILDA—Thank you, Mr. Hanlon. [CHARLIE goes out, leaving the door open. WILDA, the moment he is out of sight, runs after him, and shuts the door to close out the world while she pours her heart out to BINKIE.]

WILDA—Binkie!

BINKIE—Well?

WILDA—Binkie, let me sit beside you—hold my hand—help me to contain myself, Binkie.

BINKIE—You act as if you'd won the sweepstakes.

WILDA—It's a big day in my life, Binkie—so many things are happening to me.

BINKIE—For instance?

WILDA—First the test, and then Ryder.

BINKIE—Ryder?

WILDA—Yes. He telephoned me.

BINKIE—From Santa Fe!

WILDA—No, he's here. He flew in this morning. He wants to see me about something important, he says. He's coming here to tell it to me.

BINKIE—What will it be, do you gather?

WILDA—[Evading] Well, I don't know—My instinct tells me that today, this day of all days, I must keep clear—I must keep myself free. Today I face my future. It's a little frightening. Think of it—after all these years to be suddenly so crowded with alternatives.

BINKIE—The seven lean years—the seven fat years.

WILDA—It's unbearable, Binkie. [She is too excited to sit still. She gets up abruptly.]

BINKIE—First of all, tell me about the test. Laddy phoned me it was good.

WILDA—It was good but it wasn't me. It was like watching somebody else—another creature who didn't have my thoughts, my griefs, my doubts, my ups and downs—just a cool creature wearing a pretty frock and being agreeable—yet she was good—she was effective. Leo insists I have the makings of a star. Do you think I'm star-dust, Binkie?

BINKIE—A galaxy.

WILDA—Oh, they'll have plenty to do with me. They want to re-do a few contours here—shift a plane or two there—they'll straighten my teeth and flatten my right ear—and with these little adjustments they say I'll be wonderful.

BINKIE—[With a sigh] I hope I'll recognize you when I see you.

WILDA—It seems too good to happen to me. Do you think Laddy will really go through with the picture?

BINKIE—Laddy is a Napoleon of indecision, but I think I can assist him to make up his mind.

WILDA—Will I be able to get off the tight-rope I seem to have been on all my life?

BINKIE—Follow my lead and you'll stroll through hanging gardens—with Laddy.

WILDA—With Laddy—

BINKIE—With Laddy—

WILDA—How do I know I want that?

BINKIE—Take my word for it—you do.

WILDA—Binkie—

BINKIE—Yes?

WILDA—I think Ryder's coming here to ask me to marry him.

BINKIE—Do you? [He gets up casually and goes to the telephone.]

WILDA—Yes, something tells me that—

BINKIE—[At phone] Hello, Davidson? Is Mr. Laddy there? See if you can find him, will you? I'll hold on—[To WILDA] I'll make up Laddy's mind about the picture today.

WILDA—Laddy would suit your book much better, wouldn't he?

BINKIE—Much. [Into phone] Yes, Davidson? As soon as you find him ask him to come here, will you? I want to talk to him. [He hangs up, hums, goes to his desk and looks through datebook.]

WILDA—Binkie!

BINKIE—[Not looking around—still rummaging] Yes?

WILDA—Binkie, I must make something clear—it's only fair to you.

BINKIE—[Still absorbed in his date-book] What?

WILDA—You want Laddy to make the picture so he'll—he'll get interested in me—I want it for a different reason.

BINKIE—Have any reason you like—

WILDA—To have some little talent—some little capacity—some little ledge to cling to no matter what happens in your personal life—that's what I want.

BINKIE—[Sympathetically] A room of your own, eh, Wilda?

WILDA—Yes, a room of my own. Sitting there in that little dark room today, watching myself on the screen, I saw my whole life—my disastrous marriage with Crane—my relations with Ryder. And I saw that I've always instinctively reflected what people wanted me to be. That I myself have never been anything—not really. That's why I want this chance, Binkie—so I can find out what I really am—what I really might be—not for your reasons—not for outside reasons—but for my own. Can you understand that, Binkie?

BINKIE—All right. In my gentle way I shall goad Laddy into making the picture.

WILDA—Dear Binkie. You've been so kind to me. You've helped me out so often—

BINKIE—Mind you, I expect to be paid back, and with interest.

WILDA—I'll pay you back.

BINKIE—I used to borrow money when your mother was in trouble and I've had to borrow even oftener to help you. Costs are going up.

WILDA—Well anyway, Binkie, I feel new-born today—the past behind me—the present alive with possibility. Watch over me, Binkie, keep me steady till I get over my drunkenness. See that I keep myself free.

BINKIE—Your danger is recklessness.

WILDA—Not any more, Binkie.

BINKIE—You are too emotional. You threw yourself away on Crane. If it hadn't been for me you would have gone down to the gutter with him. You must profit by that experience.

WILDA—I've learned my lesson, Binkie. From now on, I'm going to be hard and casual and calculating.

BINKIE—Excellent resolutions. I hope you stick to them.

WILDA—I will, Binkie. Every night before I go to bed—if I have time—I'll say: "Dear Lord, please keep me hard and casual and calculating." The maiden's prayer.

BINKIE—Amen. [There is a knock on the door.]

WILDA—Amen, darling.

BINKIE—Come in. [The door is pushed open and a young man, negligently dressed, walks in. He is shy, almost precious in his manner.]

CHRIS—I beg your pardon.

WILDA—Hello.

CHRIS—I was told at the Big House on the hill I'd find my uncle here.

BINKIE—Are you Charlie Hanlon's nephew?

CHRIS—Yes.

WILDA—Oh, I've heard of you from Ryder.

CHRIS—Have you?

WILDA—Did you come East with Ryder?

CHRIS—No.

WILDA—I'm Wilda Doran.

CHRIS—How do you do?

WILDA—I'm fine. How are you? This is Binkie.

BINKIE—We've been expecting you. Welcome. Your uncle's just been here telling me about you.

CHRIS—I'd better try to find him.

WILDA—You might as well stay. He'll find out where you are. Won't you sit down? Ryder's here, you know—flew in this morning.

CHRIS—I'd like to see Ryder.

WILDA—You will. He'll be here any minute. You work for Ryder, don't you? Aren't you on his paper in Santa Fe?

CHRIS—Not for the past month. The fact is—I've been finishing a novel.

BINKIE—Published yet?

CHRIS—No.

BINKIE—Oh, unpublished?

CHRIS—While I'm here I'm going to look for a publisher.

BINKIE—Yes, I believe that is the next step.

WILDA—Is your novel good?

CHRIS—I think so.

WILDA—What's it about?

CHRIS—Share-croppers in the South.

WILDA—Oh!

CHRIS—It's about a strike—

BINKIE—Too bad.

CHRIS—[To WILDA] A strike that failed.

WILDA—Sounds depressing.

CHRIS—I suppose it is.

WILDA—Anything that fails is depressing. [BINKIE takes up notebook.]

BINKIE—Young man, while you're here I'm going to find you a publisher.

CHRIS—That's very kind of you.

BINKIE—Mind you, the poor bore me. But I know a publisher who specializes in them. I shall arrange a luncheon for you.

CHRIS—Thank you very much.

BINKIE—What's your name?

CHRIS—Dow Christophsen.

BINKIE—F or ph?

CHRIS—Ph.

WILDA—You're in Binkie's notebook. Your career's started. Same day as mine.

CHRIS—What did you start?

WILDA—My career.

CHRIS—Really.

WILDA—I saw my first film test today. It's a coincidence—an exciting coincidence. Let's wish each other luck.

CHRIS—Good luck.

WILDA—[Shaking hands with him on it] Good luck.

BINKIE—[Simmering over notebook] Lunch—Sieber—Charlie's nephew—Nowadays there's a cult for the poor just as in the Middle Ages there used to be a cult for the insane.

WILDA—Binkie sounds awfully snobbish. You mustn't mind him. May I read your novel?

CHRIS—Thanks. I don't think you'd be interested—really.

WILDA—How do you know I wouldn't?

CHRIS—Just my instinct.

WILDA—Well, your instinct might be wrong.

CHRIS—It seldom is.

WILDA—Well! [She looks at BINKIE.]

BINKIE—Serves you right, Wilda, for making an insincere offer.

WILDA—[Wanting somehow to make her status clear to CHRIS] I'm just a guest here. Laddy, Ryder's cousin, has been kind enough to invite me here while I'm making these film tests. I'd like very much to read your book. [ LADDY SEARS comes in. He is an extremely engaging young man.]

LADDY—Oh, here you are, Binkie! Wilda! How are you? How is the potential Garbo? Well, how did you look to yourself?

WILDA—Can't quite tell you.

LADDY—Well, I can tell you. I've come to talk to you about the picture, Binkie.

BINKIE—[Without enthusiasm] Good.

LADDY—[To WILDA] Suppose we go for a ride first?

WILDA—Sorry, Laddy, I can't just now. I'm waiting for Ryder.

LADDY—Oh, is he back?

WILDA—Yes.

LADDY—That's swell.

BINKIE—[Introducing CHRIS] That's Charlie Hanlon's nephew—Dow Christophsen. Ryder's cousin, Laddy Sears.

LADDY—Delighted to see you.

CHRIS—How do you do?

LADDY—Do sit down. Well, Binkie, her test looks great, no matter what she tells you. Wait till you see her close-ups.

WILDA—Oh, those close-ups! What an ordeal for a girl!

BINKIE—Dow Christophsen, Dow! What do people call you? Dow?

CHRIS——No. Chris.

WILDA—Chris is a great friend of Ryder's.

LADDY—Really?

WILDA—They work together in New Mexico.

LADDY—Really? Ryder's carved out quite a name for himself there, hasn't he? By way of becoming a national figure, isn't he?

CHRIS——Yes, he is.

WILDA—Imagine his doing it all by himself. You took a dip into politics once, didn't you, Laddy?

LADDY—I did indeed.

BINKIE—And very tiresome you were.

WILDA—Did you make speeches, Laddy?

LADDY—I did my damnedest! I ran for the Assembly with all my might.

WILDA—I bet the girls voted for you.

LADDY—The girls I know don't vote. I dropped everything else and ran. I scorned delights.

BINKIE—You certainly did!

LADDY—But I was defeated—ignominiously defeated—and why? Because I was rich—It completely slipped the minds of the dear electorate that my money made it possible for me to be disinterested. Ryder too. Exactly the same thing happened to Ryder, but in New Mexico I daresay Ryder'll get away with it. What courage Ryder has, what self-denial! What genius to pick New Mexico! In Idaho, for instance, he'd have been up against Mr. Borah, but who is Senator from New Mexico? [To CHRIS] You know, the other day your uncle was violently disapproving of Ryder. He called him a traitor to his class. What nonsense! What class? Of course, Ryder despises me because I gave up politics. Where would we be, he keeps demanding, if our ancestors—[Explaining to CHRIS] Ryder's grandfather and mine made their start together. Where would we be, he keeps asking, if our grandparents hadn't bribed aldermen to get municipal franchises? I can't answer that question—I don't know where we should be. And yet I can't really find it in my heart to blame the old fellows. What can you do with aldermen except bribe them? If you didn't bribe them, they'd be hurt. [He turns to WILDA suddenly] You know, Wilda, you are really radiantly lovely. [To CHRIS] Is this the first time you've met Wilda?

CHRIS—It is, yes.

LADDY—Don't you think she is lovely?

CHRIS—Yes.

LADDY—I hope passionately, Wilda dear, that if I should do a film, you'll be a radiant success.

WILDA—So, passionately, do I.

LADDY—If I do, and the film is a success, I warn you, Wilda, I shall exercise my rights—producer's prerogative—or so I hear. If it weren't that I am excruciatingly scrupulous I should attempt to undermine Ryder. I love you very much, Wilda. [He kisses her] How can I get over my scruples, Binkie?

BINKIE—[Without looking around] With practice.

LADDY—I say, Binkie, I wish you'd go up to the Big House and see Dad. He's had his doctor and he's low. You'd better cheer him up. Tell him some of your stories about your boyhood in Lithuania. What was the name of your home town?

BINKIE—Chupolpik.

LADDY—oh, yes, of course, Chupolpik. I love that town. Tell him that story about the general and the rosettes. He's my favorite general. General Laslas—You remember the one.

BINKIE—Laslas Baravetchikoff—Olav Hasholum. Only the other day I read about poor Baravetchikoff in the papers. He was executed by the G.P.U.

LADDY—Not really!

BINKIE—I'm afraid so. [The phone rings.]

LADDY—How could they bear to execute such a sweet fellow?

BINKIE—[Answering phone] They cried a little, but they exercised will power. [Into phone] Yes, oh, hello, Charlie, yes—your delightful nephew is here. Certainly, I'll send him up right away. Wiedersehn. [Hangs up] Your uncle—he demands you. He's at his cottage.

CHRIS—Well, if you'll excuse me—I'll just—Which way is it?

LADDY—His cottage is down by the water, but it's a bit of a walk. If you'll just wait a minute, I'll run you down in my flivver.

CHRIS—That's very nice of you.

WILDA—[Getting the high sign from BINKIE—rises] I'll take him. May I drive him over?

LADDY—Certainly.

WILDA—Thanks.

CHRIS—Sorry to be so much trouble.

LADDY—Not at all. Hope we shall see something of you.

CHRIS—Thank you. [He nods to them awkwardly.]

WILDA—If Ryder turns up, tell him I'll be right back. So long, Laddy!

LADDY—Good-bye, Beautiful! [WILDA and CHRIS go out. LADDY looks after WILDA] There's a curious girl for Ryder to be in love with.

BINKIE—Why?

LADDY—I don't know. Sometimes, Binkie, I think you are in love with Wilda yourself.

BINKIE—Nonsense!

LADDY—Why?

BINKIE—I'm too busy with my friends' love affairs—too busy straightening out their disasters.

LADDY—You take such an extraordinary interest in her!

BINKIE—[Indicating pictures on mantel] Oh, no more than I take in Daphne Hackett or Sarah Cowdin or Tamara Wilkes—or you. Poor dear Tamara—I had to have her husband deported. Besides you are inaccurate by a generation. It was Wilda's mother I was in love with—She was one of the most exquisite creatures I never had an affair with, but she too was impractical.

LADDY—Did you know her father?

BINKIE—Yes. He wrote me when he was dying. I went to see him. To support him, Wilda was dancing in a cheap night club in Chicago. He said it was on his conscience that he was dying at her expense because he was not her father at all.

LADDY—[Surprised] Really.

BINKIE—He asked me to get her real father to help Wilda. He was a famous man, distinguished, rich—but absent-minded. He refused to do anything for Wilda. Said he didn't believe in private charity. He died soon afterward, leaving his vast fortune to a university.

LADDY—If I guess who it was will you tell me?

BINKIE—No, I won't.

LADDY—You know, Binkie, sometimes I don't know just how much of your stories to believe.

BINKIE—It's optional. Now, Laddy, about the film. Wilda's test looks so good that she may take a whirl in Hollywood unless you decide to go ahead yourself.

LADDY—Oh, Wilda's all right, but what about the story?

BINKIE—Oh, the story's all right. I had an idea for one. I wrote it out and gave it to Traub. [Into phone] Hello, Davidson, get me Leo Traub at the Waldorf. [Hangs up] You know, Traub's a wonder—practically everything he touches turns into a success. It's always the same story of course. I was careful not to vary the formula. I gave him carte blanche—told him he could do anything he liked with it. [The phone rings] Hello, Leo—this is Binkie—Well, how do you like it? Good—Why, yes, he happens to be right here talking to me—I'll let you speak to him. Leo wants to talk to you. [Hands phone to LADDY.]

LADDY—[Into phone] Yes, Leo. Oh, you think so, do you—Um huh—Yes—Yees—Well, I can't quite make up my mind. I was just going to talk to Binkie about it now. [Hands phone back to BINKIE.]

BINKIE—[Into phone—whispers] Hold the wire, Leo—[He puts instrument down on the table and again turns his attention to LADDY.]

LADDY—Leo thinks Wilda's marvelous. Would be fun, wouldn't it, to discover a new star—sort of get a jump on the multitude? I've got a hunch about Wilda.

BINKIE—[Shrewdly] So has Ryder.

LADDY—Ryder despises me. Amiable drifter—Why shouldn't I do something, Binkie, on my own?

BINKIE—Why don't you?

LADDY—I've been thinking of organizing an expedition to South America to discover the sources of the Orinoco.

BINKIE—They'll wait. Why don't you discover Wilda Doran instead?

LADDY—It's quite a commitment.

BINKIE—Career, not only for Wilda, but for you too, Laddy.

LADDY—Come to think of it, might be fun.

BINKIE—It should be lots of fun.

LADDY—All right, I'll go ahead with it. Call up Leo and tell him.

BINKIE—[Returning to phone] I don't have to. I forgot to hang up. Hello, Leo. Laddy's been talking to me. It's set. He's going ahead—better come out. Six o'clock is perfect. Bring them along with you. All right—all right. Wiedersehn. [He hangs up] Film Producer.

LADDY—I feel very excited.

BINKIE—[Shakes hands with him on it] Good luck!

LADDY—I say, Binkie—

BINKIE—What?

LADDY—What if Ryder tries to influence Wilda against it?

BINKIE—I hardly think he will. After all, Ryder's career will keep him in New Mexico. Wilda's career will, I hope, keep her elsewhere. [A pause.]

LADDY—Oh, by the way, Binkie, this painter fellow—this Crane—that Wilda was married to—does she ever see him?

BINKIE—Oh, no, that's over.

LADDY—What's he doing now?

BINKIE—Starving in the gutter. Wallowing in some private hell he's marked out for himself. Ruthless egotist—Crane. But not without genius. If there's anything worse to live with than a genius, it's a man with a touch of genius.

LADDY—How did Ryder ever come into that picture?

BINKIE—I introduced him to Wilda when she'd touched bottom. He restored her morale. He made her feel there was something in herself worth salvaging. And now she's abrim with gratitude to him. But do you know, Laddy, I think she finds you very attractive.

LADDY—Really?

BINKIE—I do.

LADDY—I'm keen on her, you know that—only on account of Ryder—I'd be very excited if I thought that Wilda really liked me. [RYDER GERRARD comes in. He is between thirty-five and forty, a transplanted scholar who has shaken off the study for the forum; he has acquired the manner of heartiness with people, a recluse who has had to learn gregariousness. Antagonism strikes from him a zestful assurance; only when he is alone or with a very close intimate does he permit himself to be shadowed with the pale cast of misgiving.]

RYDER—[Shakes hands breezily] Hello, Laddy—

LADDY—Well! Hello, Ryder!

RYDER—How are you, Binkie?

BINKIE—Hello.

LADDY—I'm delighted—Dad will be delighted. How is the prodigy out of the West?

RYDER—You're sure you don't mean prodigal? I'm fine! How are you, Binkie?

BINKIE—[Shakes hands] Welcome home, Ryder.

RYDER—Home? What home? Home's New Mexico. Home's Santa Fe. Could no more live here now than I could live in—Versailles. Where's Wilda? I just came from the Big House—she's not there.

BINKIE—She'll be right back.

RYDER—Fine. Good old Binkie! What's new?

BINKIE—[Literally] The Bryans are divorced.

RYDER—[He winks appreciatively at LADDY] Good. And who's getting married?

BINKIE—The Bryans.

RYDER—Oh, Binkie, Binkie! You're marvelous! What a symbol—spectrum of society—[To LADDY] of your society, Laddy.

LADDY—Don't blame it on me. It's yours too. Or maybe it's true What's rumored—that you're a traitor to your class.

RYDER—Who paid me that compliment?

LADDY—[Sits on sofa] Charlie Hanlon.

RYDER—He would! By the way—has his nephew Chris arrived?

LADDY—Yes. Wilda just took him to see Charlie.

RYDER—How is Wilda?

LADDY—Blooming.

RYDER—Good.

LADDY—He seems a very nice feller, this Chris.

RYDER—You're wrong about that—that's not how I'd describe Chris.

LADDY—Thought he was a buddy of yours.

RYDER—He is. I like him. But he's not by your standards a nice feller. He's hard as nails.

LADDY—[Surprised] Really?

RYDER—Wait till you read his novel.

BINKIE—You'll wait a long time before I read it.

LADDY—Is it good?

RYDER—Devastating. Best novel on a strike I've ever read. Gives it to you. All of it. The whole thing. The whole class struggle.

LADDY—I must say he doesn't look it. Looks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

RYDER—Don't be deceived by Chris. He looks like a dandelion stem, but he's a steel whip inside.

LADDY—Hear you're going to be a Senator.

RYDER—[Smiling] If my cash holds out. I'm having the time of my life, children. And that, Laddy, is where you come in.

LADDY—Do I come in?

RYDER—I've got something to tell you—I am about to be appointed by a Republican Governor to succeed a Democratic Senator. I helped the Governor get elected and he's coming along in fine style but he's scared to death of me. I own a paper in Santa Fe and a Spanish weekly. I've got the Democrats guessing too; they're all afraid that after the regular election, I'll become an independent—and vote according to my own ideas—which I certainly will. In short, my friends, I am a novelty, an anomaly, a power.

LADDY—I envy you, Ryder, a whole state to yourself, a whole state to practice in.

RYDER—Don't envy me. Imitate me. Come out with me. Help me run my campaign. Tell you what I want to do. I want to divorce conservatism from reaction—to give back the term its proper meaning. We must be ready when the time comes to substitute policy for makeshift. Look at the British conservatives—they're far ahead of the most relaxed New Dealers—more emancipated and more precise. Above all we must make it clear that the people of our class are not remote from the conditions of human suffering.

BINKIE—Remote from them? They're on the verge of them!

RYDER—[Keeping after LADDY] I want you, Laddy. I need you. I want your charm, your personality, your good-will and your money.

BINKIE—Oh!

LADDY—Love to give 'em to you, Ryder, but unfortunately at the moment I'm tied up with a little venture of my own.

RYDER—Are you?

LADDY—I've just decided to start a film company.

RYDER—What for?

LADDY—What are you going into politics for? To have a career. A poor thing but mine own.

RYDER—[Humorously] Going to put Hollywood out of business?

LADDY—[With humorous deprecation] I'm going to raise the tone!

RYDER—What are you going to make?

LADDY—Story's being written by Leo Traub.

BINKIE—Based on a little idea of mine.

RYDER—I thought you were going to raise the tone!

LADDY—Not at first. I don't want to be considered highbrow.

RYDER—For pity's sake, Laddy, don't become a dilettante on the fringes of the arts.

BINKIE—What about a dilettante on the fringes of politics?

RYDER—[This nettles him] That's where you're wrong. I know more about New Mexico than any man in the state—than any man in America. I can speak their languages—all 57 varieties of them. I've been into their homes and into their budgets. I know how they live and how they fail to live. I mean to do something about that failure.

BINKIE—Hear! Hear!

RYDER—Incidentally, I'm having the time of my life. The real America. The crucible of democracy. I say, what the devil is holding up Wilda?

BINKIE—As far as I can see, you are only exchanging one feudal system for another. I much prefer this one. Will you forgive me, my dear boy, if I confess to you that I don't find Indians stimulating? They never say anything. I hate people who never say anything.

RYDER—[Pleasantly] Matter of taste, Binkie. I prefer their silence to your Long Island gossip.

LADDY—Now, Binkie, you know everything—Tell me something, will you? Why is it that Ryder and I, who have precisely the same background and the same education—what is it that makes Ryder a malcontent and me contented—well—fairly contented? What makes that difference, Binkie?

BINKIE—[This is the sort of question he loves to answer] The anatomy of rebellion among those who have everything would make a fascinating study. The most penetrating rebels are aristocrats to whom society has given everything or intellectuals to whom the accident of their endowment has given everything. To appreciate the blessings of a capitalist civilization requires an upstart like me.

RYDER—Binkie, there's no one like you!

LADDY—[Who is seriously inquisitive] No, I want to know. Please, Binkie.

BINKIE—These phenomena are strange. But then so many things in life are strange. There are fanatics who will starve and flagellate themselves to produce unpleasant visions, there are itchy eccentrics who will brave equatorial snows to get a passing glimpse of uninhabitable icy vistas, inquirers whose curiosity is so imperious that it urges them to crisp off their hands and mutilate their bodies with rays and acids, saints who will go to the stake rather than pronounce a meaningless word in two syllables instead of one. There are even people like Ryder who are under the illusion that bribing Spaniards in New Mexico is more exalted than bribing saloon-keepers in New York. It may be cheaper but really—is it loftier? As I say, these phenomena are strange.

RYDER—How characteristic! How marvelously characteristic! I cling to you, Binkie. I cherish you, Binkie.

BINKIE—Quite right!

RYDER—Exhibit A of disintegration. Really, Binkie, you sustain me in my conviction that we have to make a new start—all of us. You are personally so endearing and morally so contemptible.

LADDY—[Protesting] Oh, now, Ryder—!

RYDER—No, he is your creation, Laddy. You are responsible.

LADDY—Thank you very much!

RYDER—You support him in his miserable parasitic self-indulgence to divert you from the horrors on the surface of which you live. The spirit of man causes him to brave fires and snows for the divine impulse to truth that burns in him; he sees the banners of his faith fly in a strong wind while his body is consumed at the stake; he watches his own entrails writhe in agony in the conviction that one day he will master death, but to Binkie all this is an eccentricity! To him and to the society he represents this immolation is an eccentricity, a lapse in style.

BINKIE—[Imperturbable] I was in New Mexico once—the food was barbarous.

RYDER—Come out, Binkie. I'll see you're well fed. Not as well as Laddy of course, but it'll do you good to see how the other half lives.

BINKIE—Having lived that way the most part of my life, I haven't the least curiosity about it. No, thank you, Ryder. No, no, no. [WILDA comes back—closes door. She runs eagerly to RYDER. They embrace.]

WILDA—Darling! You look marvelous! [To the others] Doesn't he? Bronze God.

LADDY—Bronze Senator!

RYDER—Wait till I'm dead.

WILDA—Why didn't you let me know sooner you were coming? I'd have met you at the airport.

RYDER—Decided suddenly—

LADDY—Cosmic urge—?

RYDER—No. Earthly. [Looks at WILDA] Well—a mixture. [He takes her hand, squeezes it.]

WILDA—[Smiles at him] Darling! I can't get over how well you're looking.

RYDER—You get that bronzed look talking politics in pool-rooms in Santa Fe! I'm flying to Washington tonight, Wilda, Santa Fe the day after. Want you to come with me.

WILDA—Oh! [She shoots a glance at BINKIE.]

BINKIE—[Dashing cold water on this idyl] You are just in time, Ryder, to congratulate Wilda. Laddy is going ahead with the film. Wilda's playing the lead.

WILDA—[Overcome] Binkie.

LADDY—Hope you won't mind, Ryder.

WILDA—Are you really going ahead with it? Laddy—!

LADDY—Yes, I am.

WILDA—I can't believe it.

LADDY—It's true.

WILDA—I'm scared—

LADDY—Nothing to be scared about. We're all behind you. Know you'll be good.

RYDER—You don't mean to tell me this film you've been talking about is for Wilda?

LADDY—Yes.

BINKIE—She's made a test and she's marvelous. She is photogenique.

RYDER—She's what? Good God! Not really!

WILDA—Yes.

RYDER—This is your work, Binkie. I had other plans for Wilda.

BINKIE—Let me assure you, my dear Ryder, if she wants to, she can go with you and entertain Indians. We don't know yet how my story will pan out.

RYDER—Pending that momentous revelation, do you mind very much letting me talk to Wilda alone?

LADDY—Come on, Binkie. Do you suppose we'll ever see Wilda again?

BINKIE—I never prophesy.

LADDY—Stay for dinner, Ryder?

RYDER—Sorry—have to be in Washington tonight.

LADDY—Too bad. [He goes out.]

WILDA—Tonight—that's awful—can't you stay on for a bit?

RYDER—Impossible.

BINKIE—[Going to stairs] Remember, Wilda, Traub's coming out at six to talk story. He's bringing some Hollywood people with him. Don't get absent-minded and go to New Mexico. [He goes up the stairs to his bedroom.]

RYDER—[Takes her hands] Darling, what's all this? Film test—story written for you. What's all this?

WILDA—Well, it seems like a chance, Ryder!

RYDER—For what?

WILDA—Career.

RYDER—I didn't know you were ambitious!

WILDA—Neither did I! I can't believe it—even yet. Career on my own.

RYDER—I don't know—it sort of conflicts with mine.

WILDA—Does it? How?

RYDER—Wilda!

WILDA—Yes?

RYDER—How are you, darling?

WILDA—Happy to see you—I wish you weren't running away again—

RYDER—[Sits on sofa] Let's have a look at you. [They kiss.]

WILDA—Well?

RYDER—Don't blame them for wanting to film you—but I saw you first. God, how I've missed you.

WILDA—It's bewildering—you and the picture coming at once—I've got to sort myself out.

RYDER—I'll help you—now about this film career—good God, you can't take it seriously.

WILDA—I must take it seriously.

RYDER—Why?

WILDA—Because it isn't just a—well, vanity—it means more than that. [A moment's pause.]

RYDER—Wilda!

WILDA—Yes, Ryder.

RYDER—Do you know why I rushed here today? [A moment's pause.]

WILDA—I can guess.

RYDER—Can you, can you? I want you to marry me, Wilda.

WILDA—Ryder!

RYDER—I found myself missing you, Wilda—your face—your voice—I found myself missing you. This is no good—rushing back and forth between here and New Mexico to catch a glimpse of you.

WILDA—[Puts hand on his] Oh. Ryder!

RYDER—I am set now—my career is started—I am going seriously into politics. Political hostess—won't you like that?

WILDA—I don't know. Am I up to it?

RYDER—It'll be great fun for both of us, Wilda. Share it with me. I feel such a sudden poignant need of you—I want you.

WILDA—Only—coming just now—just as—

RYDER—Just as what?

WILDA—This chance—

RYDER—But surely, Wilda—

WILDA—It's important to me, Ryder—

RYDER—Tinsel wings—gilt harps—papier-mâché clouds—not good enough, Wilda—

WILDA—Still for me—it might be, mightn't it—I might be—

RYDER—I thought you loved me.

WILDA—I do.

RYDER—I'm unconvinced suddenly.

WILDA—Why?

RYDER—What is it, Wilda—what's made you change your mind about me?

WILDA—[Struggling] Let's talk—let's talk quietly.

RYDER—Come to Washington with me tonight. We'll get married there tomorrow. Thursday we'll have breakfast in Santa Fe in the wonderful crisp sunshine of my patio. We'll sit there and receive the local dignitaries. Ten-gallon hats, cow-hide vests with the hair still on, silver spurs—all the tourist atmosphere. [Kiss.]

WILDA—Couldn't you be a Senator from New York—or New Jersey?

RYDER—No, no. I tried it. The machines are too well oiled. No, I couldn't.

WILDA—Wish you'd try again.

RYDER—You won't come then?

WILDA—But marriage just as I—

RYDER—But, Wilda—I don't understand you. When I first talked to you about New Mexico you were as excited as I was. Your absorption was so genuine—seemingly so complete—you gave me intimations always of such understanding. Now I find you suddenly as if I'd never spoken to you at all about these things, as if I'd never—revealed myself to you—with such a wonderful warm sense you gave me of being—well—appreciated. I find you remote. I find you superficial. I find you casual. I find you wrapped up in a hypothetical film career. Of all things, a film career! [A pause. She faces it, decides to tell him the truth.]

WILDA—Had you asked me an hour earlier, I might have said yes to you. And for mixed reasons—not good enough for you—you deserve the clearest.

RYDER—But why—suddenly?

WILDA—Darling, I may never be so honest with you again. My foothold is risky and if I lose it, I'll cling to you like a leech. Fly—fly while you can.

RYDER—I won't. I won't accept this valuation you put upon yourself. I think more of you than that. I must justify my interest.

WILDA—There's no one like you, Ryder. The truth is—I'm not up to you.

RYDER—[Laughing] Well, it is an almost impossible standard—but I think you can make it.

WILDA—I'm not sure.

RYDER—No, Wilda, you're honest, you're all right. I can't believe you'll be satisfied acting in movies composed by Leo Traub.

WILDA—[Tucking her feet under her] It isn't that—that I take myself seriously, or Traub. There's more behind it than that. It's more than just a film career.

RYDER—What then?

WILDA—I want my own chance—to find out—what I want. I've been pushed about so.

RYDER—By me?

WILDA—By life. By Crane. By being in love with Crane. And, yes—by you.

RYDER—[Studying her] By me?

WILDA—You were there and wonderful and I couldn't help loving you.

RYDER—I was not a choice—I was an—alternative?

WILDA—Do I hurt you?

RYDER—[Quietly] Yes.

WILDA—[Pained] Ryder!

RYDER—But go on.

WILDA—Never in my life have I been able to decide for myself. This may give me a chance, Ryder.

RYDER—Of course, darling. Take it.

WILDA—Ryder!

RYDER—I understand perfectly.

WILDA—Darling—do you?

RYDER—Of course.

WILDA—Will you wait?

RYDER—Yes. I'll wait. I'll wait until this film of yours is finished. By that time you'll be sick of this career—you'll come to me—of your own free will.

WILDA—[Throws her arms around him and kisses him] Oh, Ryder, I love you!

RYDER—[Embrace] You exaggerate, Wilda, but it's very pleasant. Come into town with me now—we'll have dinner and you can take me to the airport.

WILDA—Oh, dear! I wish I could!

RYDER—Why can't you?

WILDA—Didn't you hear? Leo Traub's coming out here.

RYDER—To hell with Traub—let Binkie talk to him. Let Laddy talk to him.

WILDA—But it's the first conference! I wonder—

RYDER—You're going to act the damn thing—do you have to write it too? I want to talk to you, Wilda. I've got lots to say to you—lots of funny things I've been saving to tell you.

WILDA—All right, I'll cut the conference and go in with you.

RYDER—Fine! [As they start out, CHRIS comes back.]

CHRIS—I forgot my—

RYDER—Oh, Chris! How are you?

CHRIS—Fine! How are you, Ryder? [They shake hands.]

WILDA—Did you see your uncle?

CHRIS—I did. I saw him. He must have been alive once.

WILDA—What did he say?

CHRIS—He cross-examined me. I was sweet as pie. So was he. Asked to read my book. Asked me to stay on here.

RYDER—Probably wants to keep you under observation.

WILDA—Are you going to stay?

CHRIS—Hadn't thought.

RYDER—Well, Chris, have you finished your revisions on the novel?

CHRIS—All finished.

RYDER—Pleased with them?

CHRIS—Pretty well.

RYDER—Well, then, there's nothing to prevent your coming back with me.

CHRIS—Sorry, I can't.

RYDER—What?

CHRIS—I'm through.

RYDER—Through? Things are getting hot in New Mexico.

CHRIS—Not hot enough for me.

RYDER—Oh, sorry, I'll miss you—you could be very useful to me.

CHRIS—Not from my point of view.

WILDA—[Calling upstairs] Binkie!

RYDER—I hate to see you going all haywire like this, Chris. Come out and assist me with the Democratic process.

CHRIS—It's not a process at all—it's a series of casualties.

RYDER—Why not help me reduce them?

CHRIS—No use when I don't believe in what you're doing.

RYDER—[To WILDA] You gather we disagree slightly.

CHRIS—We disagree fundamentally.

RYDER—[To CHRIS] Well, we'll see what you collectivist boys accomplish.

WILDA—[Calls upstairs again] Binkie!

RYDER—Well, Chris, I can't—with any sincerity—wish you luck—politically speaking. Let me know what happens to your novel, will you?

CHRIS—I will. Sure. [WILDA and RYDER are about to leave. BINKIE comes in.]

RYDER—Come along, Wilda.

WILDA—Just a moment—I'll have to tell Binkie.

BINKIE—Wilda!

WILDA—[Standing with her arm through RYDER'S] Oh, Binkie. I'm going into town to dine with Ryder. Explain to Laddy and Leo, will you?

BINKIE—You can't do that, Wilda. You can't let Laddy down—and you can't let Leo down.

WILDA—But it's my only chance to see Ryder.

BINKIE—I'm afraid that won't mean much to Leo. He is not sentimental—except in his pictures.

RYDER—Can't you hold the fort for one night, Binkie?

BINKIE—[To RYDER as one reasonable man to another] Well, either she's going into this, or she isn't. Wilda, you've got to make up your mind.

RYDER—[Losing his temper a bit] If dining with me will ruin her career, it can't be very secure.

BINKIE—[Equably] It isn't.

WILDA—I'll risk it. Please, Binkie, can't you—

BINKIE—I won't take the responsibility, Wilda. Will you?

WILDA—What shall I do? Ryder, what can I do?

RYDER—Well, obviously a career has greater responsibilities than—Well, I said I'd wait. I'll start right now. You'd better stay.

WILDA—I feel terribly.

RYDER—Never mind, dear. Come on—see me to the car. [WILDA and RYDER go out.]

BINKIE—[To CHRIS] Well, young man, I'm going to phone my friend Sieber the publisher and arrange a luncheon for you.

CHRIS—Thank you very much.

BINKIE—[Sits at desk] Now, will Wednesday suit you?

CHRIS—I have no engagements.

BINKIE—After luncheon, you can go to Sieber's office and talk about share-croppers. It will be easier after a good lunch at the Colony.

CHRIS—What's the Colony?

BINKIE—Good God! [WILDA re-enters] Wilda, I suppose you realize why I made you stay. Laddy mustn't get the impression you are not serious.

WILDA—[Sits on sofa] I feel low suddenly. Chris, do you ride?

CHRIS—No.

WILDA—But you are a Westerner. Don't all Westerners ride?

CHRIS—Not in my set.

WILDA—As a matter of fact, they don't in mine either, but I've picked it up. Beautiful horses on the place, Chris. You'd better get a groom and learn.

BINKIE—When I was in Montana thirty years ago with Ellerman, the Copper King, I got on a horse. I have a photograph of myself in chaps.

WILDA—I'd give anything for that photograph. I have an idea. Why don't you teach Chris to ride?

CHRIS—I don't think I'll be here long enough to study.

WILDA—No? Don't you like it here?

CHRIS—I'm afraid it's a little too elaborate for me. I don't think I'll ever get used to it.

WILDA—You'd be surprised, Chris. I did.

CHRIS—I'm afraid I haven't any talent for it. [A moment's pause] Will you excuse me? I have to read my manuscript—to my uncle. [CHRIS goes out. WILDA looks after him.]

BINKIE—A curious boy. He makes you feel he's examining you under a microscope. Strange fellow.

WILDA—[Thoughtfully] In an odd way—

BINKIE—What?

WILDA—He reminds me of Crane.

BINKIE—[Brushing aside her preoccupation and getting back to serious matters] I am afraid I must admonish you, Wilda.

WILDA—Why?

BINKIE—For your conduct just now with Ryder.

WILDA—Conduct, Binkie?

BINKIE—Out of your impulse to be gracious to Ryder you almost made a bad misstep. You might have upset my whole plan for the picture.

WILDA—Oh, sorry!

BINKIE—I thought you were going to be hard and casual and calculating.

WILDA—So I was—just for the moment, Binkie, it slipped my mind. [On BINKIE'S gesture of helpless resignation—

The curtain falls.

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