FIRST PART

ACT ONE

SCENE—The library of Professor Leeds' home in a small university town in New England. This room is at the front part of his house with windows opening on the strip of lawn between the house and the quiet residential street. It is a small room with a low ceiling. The furniture has been selected with a love for old New England pieces. The walls are lined almost to the ceiling with glassed-in bookshelves. These are packed with books, principally editions, many of them old and rare, of the ancient classics in the original Greek and Latin, of the later classics in French and German and Italian, of all the English authors who wrote while s was still like an f and a few since then, the most modern probably being Thackeray. The atmosphere of the room is that of a cosy, cultured retreat, sedulously built as a sanctuary where, secure with the culture of the past at his back, a fugitive from reality can view the present safely from a distance, as a superior with condescending disdain, pity, and even amusement.

There is a fair-sized table, a heavy armchair, a rocker, and an old bench made comfortable with cushions. The table, with the Professor's armchair at its left, is arranged toward the left of the room, the rocker is at center, the bench at right.

There is one entrance, a door in the right wall, rear.

It is late afternoon of a day in August. Sunshine, cooled and dimmed in the shade of trees, fills the room with a soothing light.

The sound of a maid's voice—a middle-aged woman—explaining familiarly but respectfully from the right, and Marsden enters. He is a tall thin man of thirty-five, meticulously well-dressed in tweeds of distinctly English tailoring, his appearance that of an Anglicized New England gentleman. His face is too long for its width, his nose is high and narrow, his forehead broad, his mild blue eyes those of a dreamy self-analyst, his thin lips ironical and a bit sad. There is an indefinable feminine quality about him, but it is nothing apparent in either appearance or act. His manner is cool and poised. He speaks with a careful ease as one who listens to his own conversation. He has long fragile hands, and the stoop to his shoulders of a man weak muscularly, who has never liked athletics and has always been regarded as of delicate constitution. The main point about his personality is a quiet charm, a quality of appealing, inquisitive friendliness, always willing to listen, eager to sympathize, to like and to be liked.

Marsden—(standing just inside the door, his tall, stooped figure leaning back against the books—nodding back at the maid and smiling kindly) I'll wait in here, Mary. (His eyes follow her for a second, then return to gaze around the room slowly with an appreciative relish for the familiar significance of the books. He smiles affectionately and his amused voice recites the words with a rhetorical resonance.) Sanctum Sanctorum! (His voice takes on a monotonous musing quality, his eyes stare idly at his drifting thoughts.)

How perfectly the Professor's unique haven! …

(He smiles.)

Primly classical … when New Englander meets Greek! …

(looking at the books now)

He hasn't added one book in years … how old was I when I first came here? … six … with my father … father … how dim his face has grown! … he wanted to speak to me just before he died … the hospital … smell of iodoform in the cool halls … hot summer … I bent down … his voice had withdrawn so far away … I couldn't understand him … what son can ever understand? … always too near, too soon, too distant or too late! …

(His face has become sad with a memory of the bewildered suffering of the adolescent boy he had been at the time of his father's death. Then he shakes his head, flinging off his thoughts, and makes himself walk about the room.)

What memories on such a smiling afternoon! … this pleasant old town after three months … I won't go to Europe again … couldn't write a line there … how answer the fierce question of all those dead and maimed? … too big a job for me! …

(He sighs—then self-mockingly)

But back here … it is the interlude that gently questions … in this town dozing … decorous bodies moving with circumspection through the afternoons … their habits affectionately chronicled … an excuse for weaving amusing words … my novels … not of cosmic importance, hardly …

(then self-reassuringly)

but there is a public to cherish them, evidently … and I can write! … more than one can say of these modern sex-yahoos! … I must start work tomorrow … I'd like to use the Professor in a novel sometime … and his wife … seems impossible she's been dead six years … so aggressively his wife! … poor Professor! now it's Nina who bosses him … but that's different … she has bossed me, too, ever since she was a baby … she's a woman now … known love and death … Gordon brought down in flames … two days before the armistice … what fiendish irony! … his wonderful athlete's body … her lover … charred bones in a cage of twisted steel … no wonder she broke down … Mother said she's become quite queer lately … Mother seemed jealous of my concern … why have I never fallen in love with Nina? … could I? … that way … used to dance her on my knee … sit her on my lap … even now she'd never think anything about it … but sometimes the scent of her hair and skin … like a dreamy drug … dreamy! … there's the rub! … all dreams with me! … my sex life among the phantoms! …

(He grins torturedly.)

Why? … oh, this digging in gets nowhere … to the devil with sex! … our impotent pose of today to beat the loud drum on fornication! … boasters … eunuchs parading with the phallus! … giving themselves away … whom do they fool? … not even themselves! …

(his face suddenly full of an intense pain and disgust)

Ugh! … always that memory! … why can't I ever forget? … as sickeningly clear as if it were yesterday … prep school … Easter vacation … Fatty Boggs and Jack Frazer … that house of cheap vice… one dollar! … why did I go? … Jack, the dead game sport … how I admired him! … afraid of his taunts … he pointed to the Italian girl … "Take her!" … daring me … I went … miserably frightened … what a pig she was! … pretty vicious face under caked powder and rouge … surly and contemptuous … lumpy body … short legs and thick ankles … slums of Naples … "What you gawkin' about? Git a move on, kid" … kid! … I was only a kid! … sixteen … test of manhood … ashamed to face Jack again unless … fool! … I might have lied to him! … but I honestly thought that wench would feel humiliated if I … oh, stupid kid! … back at the hotel I waited till they were asleep … then sobbed … thinking of Mother … feeling I had defiled her … and myself … forever! …

(mocking bitterly)

"Nothing half so sweet in life as love's young dream," what? …

(He gets to his feet impatiently.)

Why does my mind always have to dwell on that? … too silly … no importance really … an incident such as any boy of my age …

(He hears someone coming quickly from the right and turns expectantly. Professor Leeds enters, a pleased relieved expression fighting the flurried worry on his face. He is a small, slender man of fifty-five, his hair gray, the top of his head bald. His face, prepossessing in spite of its too-small, over-refined features, is that of a retiring, studious nature. He has intelligent eyes and a smile that can be ironical. Temperamentally timid, his defense is an assumption of his complacent, superior manner of the classroom toward the world at large. This defense is strengthened by a natural tendency toward a prim provincialism where practical present-day considerations are concerned (though he is most liberal—even radical—in his tolerant understanding of the manners and morals of Greece and Imperial Rome!). This classroom poise of his, however, he cannot quite carry off outside the classroom. There is an unconvincing quality about it that leaves his larger audience—and particularly the Professor himself—subtly embarrassed. As Marsden is one of his old students, whom, in addition, he has known from childhood, he is perfectly at ease with him.)

Marsden—(holding out his hand—with unmistakable liking) Here I am again, Professor!

Professor Leeds—(shaking his hand and patting him on the back—with genuine affection) So glad to see you, Charlie! A surprise, too! We didn't expect you back so soon! (He sits in his chair on the left of the table while Marsden sits in the rocker. Looking away from Marsden a moment, his face now full of selfish relief as he thinks)

Fortunate, his coming back … always calming influence on Nina …

Marsden—And I never dreamed of returning so soon. But Europe, Professor, is the big casualty they were afraid to set down on the list.

Professor Leeds—(his face clouding) Yes, I suppose you found everything completely changed since before the war. (He thinks resentfully)

The war … Gordon! …

Marsden—Europe has "gone west"—(he smiles whimsically) to America, let's hope! (then frowningly) I couldn't stand it. There were millions sitting up with the corpse already, who had a family right to be there—(then matter-of-factly) I was wasting my time, too. I couldn't write a line. (then gaily) But where's Nina? I must see Nina!

Professor Leeds—She'll be right in. She said she wanted to finish thinking something out—You'll find Nina changed, Charlie, greatly changed! (He sighs—thinking with a trace of guilty alarm)

The first thing she said at breakfast … "I dreamed of Gordon" … as if she wanted to taunt me! … how absurd! … her eyes positively glared! …

(suddenly blurting out resentfully) She dreams about Gordon.

Marsden—(looking at him with amused surprise) Well, I'd hardly call that a change, would you?

Professor Leeds—(thinking, oblivious to this remark)

But I must constantly bear in mind that she's not herself … that she's a sick girl …

Marsden—(thinking)

The morning news of Gordon's death came … her face like gray putty … beauty gone … no face can afford intense grief … it's only later when sorrow …

(with concern) Just what do you mean by changed, Professor? Before I left she seemed to be coming out of that horrible numbed calm.

Professor Leeds—(slowly and carefully) Yes, she has played a lot of golf and tennis this summer, motored around with her friends, and even danced a good deal. And she eats with a ravenous appetite. (thinking frightenedly)

Breakfast … "dreamed of Gordon" … what a look of hate for me in her eyes! …

Marsden—But that sounds splendid! When I left she wouldn't see anyone or go anywhere. (thinking pityingly)

Wandering from room to room … her thin body and pale lost face … gutted, love-abandoned eyes! …

Professor Leeds—Well, now she's gone to the opposite extreme! Sees everyone—bores, fools—as if she'd lost all discrimination or wish to discriminate. And she talks interminably, Charlie—intentional nonsense, one would say! Refuses to be serious! Jeers at everything!

Marsden—(consolingly) Oh, that's all undoubtedly part of the effort she's making to forget.

Professor Leeds—(absent-mindedly) Yes. (arguing with himself)

Shall I tell him? … no … it might sound silly … but it's terrible to be so alone in this … if Nina's mother had lived … my wife … dead! … and for a time I actually felt released! … wife! … helpmeet! … now I need help! … no use! … she's gone! …

Marsden—(watching him—thinking with a condescending affection)

Good little man … he looks worried … always fussing about something … he must get on Nina's nerves. …

(reassuringly) No girl could forget Gordon in a hurry, especially after the shock of his tragic death.

Professor Leeds—(irritably) I realize that. (thinking resentfully)

Gordon … always Gordon with everyone! …

Marsden—By the way, I located the spot near Sedan where Gordon's machine fell. Nina asked me to, you know.

Professor Leeds—(irritated—expostulatingly) For heaven's sake, don't remind her! Give her a chance to forget if you want to see her well again. After all, Charlie, life must be lived and Nina can't live with a corpse forever! (trying to control his irritation and talk in an objective tone) You see, I'm trying to see things through clearly and unsentimentally. If you'll remember, I was as broken up as anyone over Gordon's death. I'd become so reconciled to Nina's love for him—although, as you know, I was opposed at first, and for fair reasons, I think, for the boy, for all his good looks and prowess in sport and his courses, really came of common people and had no money of his own except as he made a career for himself.

Marsden—(a trifle defensively) I'm sure he would have had a brilliant career.

Professor Leeds—(impatiently) No doubt. Although you must acknowledge, Charlie, that college heroes rarely shine brilliantly in after life. Unfortunately, the tendency to spoil them in the university is a poor training—

Marsden—But Gordon was absolutely unspoiled, I should say.

Professor Leeds—(heatedly) Don't misunderstand me, Charlie! I'd be the first to acknowledge—(a bit pathetically) It isn't Gordon, Charlie. It's his memory, his ghost, you might call it, haunting Nina, whose influence I have come to dread because of the terrible change in her attitude toward me. (His face twitches as if he were on the verge of tears—he thinks desperately)

I've got to tell him … he will see that I acted for the best … that I was justified. …

(He hesitates—then blurts out) It may sound incredible, but Nina has begun to act as if she hated me!

Marsden—(startled) Oh, come now!

Professor Leeds—(insistently) Absolutely! I haven't wanted to admit it. I've refused to believe it, until it's become too appallingly obvious in her whole attitude toward me! (His voice trembles.)

Marsden—(moved—expostulating) Oh, now you're becoming morbid! Why, Nina has always idolized you! What possible reason—?

Professor Leeds—(quickly) I can answer that, I think. She has a reason. But why she should blame me when she must know I acted for the best—You probably don't know, but just before he sailed for the front Gordon wanted their marriage to take place, and Nina consented. In fact, from the insinuations she lets drop now, she must have been most eager, but at the time—However, I felt it was ill-advised and I took Gordon aside and pointed out to him that such a precipitate marriage would be unfair to Nina, and scarcely honorable on his part.

Marsden—(staring at him wonderingly) You said that to Gordon? (thinking cynically)

A shrewd move! … Gordon's proud spot, fairness and honor! … but was it honorable of you? …

Professor Leeds—(with a touch of asperity) Yes, I said it, and I gave him my reason. There was the possibility he might be killed, in the flying service rather more than a possibility, which needless to say, I did not point out, but which Gordon undoubtedly realized, poor boy! If he were killed, he would be leaving Nina a widow, perhaps with a baby, with no resources, since he was penniless, except what pension she might get from the government; and all this while she was still at an age when a girl, especially one of Nina's charm and beauty, should have all of life before her. Decidedly, I told him, in justice to Nina, they must wait until he had come back and begun to establish his position in the world. That was the square thing. And Gordon was quick to agree with me!

Marsden—(thinking)

The square thing! … but we must all be crooks where happiness is concerned! … steal or starve! …

(then rather ironically) And so Gordon told Nina he'd suddenly realized it wouldn't be fair to her. But I gather he didn't tell her it was your scruple originally?

Professor Leeds—No, I asked him to keep what I said strictly confidential.

Marsden—(thinking ironically)

Trusted to his honor again! … old fox! … poor Gordon! …

But Nina suspects now that you—?

Professor Leeds—(startled) Yes. That's exactly it. She knows in some queer way. And she acts toward me exactly as if she thought I had deliberately destroyed her happiness, that I had hoped for Gordon's death and been secretly overjoyed when the news came! (His voice is shaking with emotion.) And there you have it, Charlie—the whole absurd mess! (thinking with a strident accusation)

And it's true, you contemptible … !

(then miserably defending himself)

No! … I acted unselfishly … for her sake! …

Marsden—(wonderingly) You don't mean to tell me she has accused you of all this?

Professor Leeds—Oh, no, Charlie! Only by hints—looks—innuendos. She knows she has no real grounds, but in the present state of her mind the real and the unreal become confused—

Marsden—(thinking cynically)

As always in all minds … or how could men live? …

(soothingly) That's just what you ought to bear in your mind—the state of hers—and not get so worked up over what I should say is a combination of imagination on both your parts. (He gets to his feet as he hears voices from the right.) Buck up! This must be Nina coming. (The Professor gets to his feet, hastily composing his features into his bland, cultured expression.)

Marsden—(thinking self mockingly but a bit worried about himself)

My heart pounding! … seeing Nina again! … how sentimental … how she'd laugh if she knew! … and quite rightly … absurd for me to react as if I loved … that way … her dear old Charlie … ha! …

(He smiles with bitter self-mockery.)

Professor Leeds—(thinking worriedly)

I hope she won't make a scene … she's seemed on the verge all day … thank God, Charlie's like one of the family … but what a life for me! … with the opening of the new term only a few weeks off! … I can't do it … I'll have to call in a nerve specialist … but the last one did her no good … his outrageous fee … he can take it to court … I absolutely refuse … but if he should bring suit? … what a scandal … no, I'll have to pay … somehow … borrow … he has me in a corner, the robber! …

Nina—(enters and stands just inside the doorway looking directly at her father with defiant eyes, her face set in an expression of stubborn resolve. She is twenty, tall with broad square shoulders, slim strong hips and long beautifully developed legs—a fine athletic girl of the swimmer, tennis player, golfer type. Her straw-blond hair, framing her sunburned face, is bobbed. Her face is striking, handsome rather than pretty, the bone structure prominent, the forehead high, the lips of her rather large mouth clearly modelled above the firm jaw. Her eyes are beautiful and bewildering, extraordinarily large and a deep greenish blue. Since Gordon's death they have a quality of continually shuddering before some terrible enigma, of being wounded to their depths and made defiant and resentful by their pain. Her whole manner, the charged atmosphere she gives off, is totally at variance with her healthy outdoor physique. It is strained, nerve-racked, hectic, a terrible tension of will alone maintaining self-possession. She is dressed in smart sport clothes. Too preoccupied with her resolve to remember or see Marsden, she speaks directly to her father in a voice tensely cold and calm.) I have made up my mind, Father.

Professor Leeds—(thinking distractedly)

What does she mean? … oh, God help me! …

(flustered—hastily) Don't you see Charlie, Nina?

Marsden—(troubled—thinking)

She has changed … what has happened? …

(He comes forward toward her—a bit embarrassed but affectionately using his pet name for her.) Hello, Nina Cara Nina! Are you trying to cut me dead, young lady?

Nina—(turning her eyes to Marsden, holding out her hand for him to shake, in her cool, preoccupied voice) Hello, Charlie. (Her eyes immediately return to her father.) Listen, Father!

Marsden—(standing near her, concealing his chagrin)

That hurts! … I mean nothing! … but she's a sick girl … I must make allowance …

Professor Leeds—(thinking distractedly)

That look in her eyes! … hate! …

(with a silly giggle) Really, Nina, you're absolutely rude! What has Charlie done?

Nina—(in her cool tone) Why, nothing. Nothing at all. (She goes to him with a detached, friendly manner.) Did I seem rude, Charlie? I didn't mean to be. (She kisses him with a cool, friendly smile.) Welcome home. (thinking wearily)

What has Charlie done? … nothing … and never will … Charlie sits beside the fierce river, immaculately timid, cool and clothed, watching the burning, frozen naked swimmers drown at last. …

Marsden—(thinking torturedly)

Cold lips … the kiss of contempt! … for dear old Charlie! …

(forcing a good-natured laugh) Rude? Not a bit! (banteringly) As I've often reminded you, what can I expect when the first word you ever spoke in this world was an insult to me. "Dog" you said, looking right at me—at the age of one! (He laughs. The Professor laughs nervously. Nina smiles perfunctorily.)

Nina—(thinking wearily)

The fathers laugh at little daughter Nina … I must get away! … nice Charlie doggy … faithful … fetch and carry … bark softly in books at the deep night. …

Professor Leeds—(thinking)

What is she thinking? … I can't stand living like this! …

(giggle gone to a twitching grin) You are a cool one, Nina! You'd think you'd just seen Charlie yesterday!

Nina—(slowly—coolly and reflectively) Well, the war is over. Coming back safe from Europe isn't such an unusual feat now, is it?

Marsden—(thinking bitterly)

A taunt … I didn't fight … physically unfit … not like Gordon … Gordon in flames … how she must resent my living! … thinking of me, scribbling in press bureau … louder and louder lies … drown the guns and the screams … deafen the world with lies … hired choir of liars! …

(forcing a joking tone) Little you know the deadly risks I ran, Nina! If you'd eaten some of the food they gave me on my renovated transport, you'd shower me with congratulations! (The Professor forces a snicker.)

Nina—(coolly) Well, you're here, and that's that. (then suddenly expanding in a sweet, genuinely affectionate smile) And I am glad, Charlie, always glad you're here! You know that.

Marsden—(delighted and embarrassed) I hope so, Nina!

Nina—(turning on her father—determinedly) I must finish what I started to say, Father. I've thought it all out and decided that I simply must get away from here at once—or go crazy! And I'm going on the nine-forty tonight. (She turns to Marsden with a quick smile.) You'll have to help me pack, Charlie! (thinking with weary relief)

Now that's said … I'm going … never come back … oh, how I loathe this room! …

Marsden—(thinking with alarm)

What's this? … going? … going to whom? …

Professor Leeds—(thinking—terrified)

Going? … never come back to me? … no! …

(desperately putting on his prim severe manner toward an unruly pupil) This is rather a sudden decision, isn't it? You haven't mentioned before that you were considering—in fact, you've led me to believe that you were quite contented here—that is, of course I mean for the time being, and I really think—

Marsden—(looking at Nina—thinking with alarm)

Going away to whom? …

(then watching the Professor with a pitying shudder)

He's on the wrong tack with his professor's manner … her eyes seeing cruelly through him … with what terrible recognition! … God, never bless me with children! …

Nina—(thinking with weary scorn)

The Professor of Dead Languages is talking again … a dead man lectures on the past of living … since I was born I have been in his class, loving-attentive, pupil-daughter Nina … my ears numb with spiritless messages from the dead … dead words droning on … listening because he is my cultured father … a little more inclined to deafness than the rest (let me be just) because he is my father … father? … what is father? …

Professor Leeds—(thinking—terrified)

I must talk her out of it! … find the right words! … oh, I know she won't hear me! … oh, wife, why did you die, you would have talked to her, she would have listened to you! …

(continuing in his professor's superior manner)—and I really think, in justice to yourself above all, you ought to consider this step with great care before you definitely commit yourself. First and foremost, there is your health to be taken into consideration. You've been very ill, Nina, how perilously so perhaps you're not completely aware, but I assure you, and Charlie can corroborate my statement, that six months ago the doctors thought it might be years before—and yet, by staying home and resting and finding healthy outdoor recreation among your old friends, and keeping your mind occupied with the routine of managing the household—(he forces a prim playful smile) and managing me, I might add!—you have wonderfully improved and I think it most ill-advised in the hottest part of August, while you're really still a convalescent—

Nina—(thinking)

Talking! … his voice like a fatiguing dying tune droned on a beggar's organ … his words arising from the tomb of a soul in puffs of ashes …

(torturedly)

Ashes! … oh, Gordon, my dear one! … oh, lips on my lips, oh, strong arms around me, oh, spirit so brave and generous and gay! … ashes dissolving into mud! … mud and ashes! … that's all! … gone! … gone forever from me! …

Professor Leeds—(thinking angrily)

Her eyes … I know that look … tender, loving … not for me … damn Gordon! … I'm glad he's dead! …

(a touch of asperity in his voice) And at a couple of hours' notice to leave everything in the air, as it were—(then judicially) No, Nina, frankly, I can't see it. You know I'd gladly consent to anything in the world to benefit you, but—surely, you can't have reflected!

Nina—(thinking torturedly)

Gordon darling, I must go away where I can think of you in silence! …

(She turns on her father, her voice trembling with the effort to keep it in control—icily) It's no use talking, Father. I have reflected and I am going!

Professor Leeds—(with asperity) But I tell you it's quite impossible! I don't like to bring up the money consideration but I couldn't possibly afford—And how will you support yourself, if I may ask? Two years in the University, I am sorry to say, won't be much use to you when applying for a job. And even if you had completely recovered from your nervous breakdown, which it's obvious to anyone you haven't, then I most decidedly think you should finish out your science course and take your degree before you attempt—(thinking desperately)

No use! … she doesn't hear … thinking of Gordon … she'll defy me …

Nina—(thinking desperately)

I must keep calm … I mustn't let go or I'll tell him everything … and I mustn't tell him … he's my father …

(with the same cold calculating finality) I've already had six months' training for a nurse. I will finish my training. There's a doctor I know at a sanitarium for crippled soldiers—a friend of Gordon's. I wrote to him and he answered that he'll gladly arrange it.

Professor Leeds—(thinking furiously)

Gordon's friend … Gordon again! …

(severely) You seriously mean to tell me you, in your condition, want to nurse in a soldiers' hospital! Absurd!

Marsden—(thinking with indignant revulsion)

Quite right, Professor! … her beauty … all those men … in their beds … it's too revolting! …

(with a persuasive quizzing tone) Yes, I must say I can't see you as a peace-time Florence Nightingale, Nina!

Nina—(coolly, struggling to keep control, ignoring these remarks) So you see, Father, I've thought of everything and there's not the slightest reason to worry about me. And I've been teaching Mary how to take care of you. So you won't need me at all. You can go along as if nothing had happened—and really, nothing will have happened that hasn't already happened.

Professor Leeds—Why, even the manner in which you address me—the tone you take—proves conclusively that you're not yourself!

Nina—(her voice becoming a bit uncanny, her thoughts breaking through) No, I'm not myself yet. That's just it. Not all myself. But I've been becoming myself. And I must finish!

Professor Leeds—(with angry significance—to Marsden) You hear her, Charlie? She's a sick girl!

Nina—(slowly and strangely) I'm not sick. I'm too well. But they are sick and I must give my health to help them to live on, and to live on myself. (with a sudden intensity in her tone) I must pay for my cowardly treachery to Gordon! You should understand this, Father, you who—(She swallows hard, catching her breath. Thinking desperately)

I'm beginning to tell him! … I mustn't! … he's my father! …

Professor Leeds—(in a panic of guilty fear, but defiantly) What do you mean? I am afraid you're not responsible for what you're saying.

Nina—(again with the strange intensity) I must pay! It's my plain duty! Gordon is dead! What use is my life to me or anyone? But I must make it of use—by giving it! (fiercely) I must learn to give myself, do you hear—give and give until I can make that gift of myself for a man's happiness without scruple, without fear, without joy except in his joy! When I've accomplished this I'll have found myself, I'll know how to start in living my own life again! (appealing to them with a desperate impatience) Don't you see? In the name of the commonest decency and honor, I owe it to Gordon!

Professor Leeds—(sharply) No, I can't see—nor anyone else! (thinking savagely)

I hope Gordon is in hell! …

Marsden—(thinking)

Give herself? … can she mean her body? … beautiful body … to cripples? … for Gordon's sake? … damn Gordon! …

(coldly) What do you mean, you owe it to Gordon, Nina?

Professor Leeds—(bitterly) Yes, how ridiculous! It seems to me when you gave him your love, he got more than he could ever have hoped—

Nina—(with fierce self-contempt) I gave him? What did I give him? It's what I didn't give! That last night before he sailed—in his arms until my body ached—kisses until my lips were numb—knowing all that night—something in me knowing he would die, that he would never kiss me again—knowing this so surely yet with my cowardly brain lying, no, he'll come back and marry you, you'll be happy ever after and feel his children at your breasts looking up with eyes so much like his, possessing eyes so happy in possessing you! (then violently) But Gordon never possessed me! I'm still Gordon's silly virgin! And Gordon is muddy ashes! And I've lost my happiness forever! All that last night I knew he wanted me. I knew it was only the honorable code-bound Gordon, who kept commanding from his brain, no, you mustn't, you must respect her, you must wait till you have a marriage license! (She gives a mocking laugh.)

Professor Leeds—(shocked) Nina! This is really going too far!

Marsden—(repelled—with a superior sneer) Oh, come now, Nina! You've been reading books. Those don't sound like your thoughts.

Nina—(without looking at him, her eyes on her father's—intensely) Gordon wanted me! I wanted Gordon! I should have made him take me! I knew he would die and I would have no children, that there would be no big Gordon or little Gordon left to me, that happiness was calling me, never to call again if I refused! And yet I did refuse! I didn't make him take me! I lost him forever! And now I am lonely and not pregnant with anything at all, but—but loathing! (She hurls this last at her father—fiercely) Why did I refuse? What was that cowardly something in me that cried, no, you mustn't, what would your father say?

Professor Leeds—(thinking—furiously)

What an animal! … and my daughter! … she doesn't get it from me! … was her mother like that? …

(distractedly) Nina! I really can't listen!

Nina—(savagely) And that's exactly what my father did say! Wait, he told Gordon! Wait for Nina till the war's over, and you've got a good job and can afford a marriage license!

Professor Leeds—(crumbling pitifully) Nina! I—!

Marsden—(flurriedly—going to him) Don't take her seriously, Professor! (thinking with nervous repulsion)

Nina has changed … all flesh now … lust … who would dream she was so sensual? … I wish I were out of this! … I wish I hadn't come here today! …

Nina—(coldly and deliberately) Don't lie any more, Father! Today I've made up my mind to face things. I know now why Gordon suddenly dropped all idea of marriage before he left, how unfair to me he suddenly decided it would be! Unfair to me! Oh, that's humorous! To think I might have had happiness, Gordon, and now Gordon's child—(then directly accusing him) You told him it'd be unfair, you put him on his honor, didn't you?

Professor Leeds—(collecting himself—woodenly) Yes. I did it for your sake, Nina.

Nina—(in the same voice as before) It's too late for lies!

Professor Leeds—(woodenly) Let us say then that I persuaded myself it was for your sake. That may be true. You are young. You think one can live with truth. Very well. It is also true I was jealous of Gordon. I was alone and I wanted to keep your love. I hated him as one hates a thief one may not accuse nor punish. I did my best to prevent your marriage. I was glad when he died. There. Is that what you wish me to say?

Nina—Yes. Now I begin to forget I've hated you. You were braver than I, at least.

Professor Leeds—I wanted to live comforted by your love until the end. In short, I am a man who happens to be your father. (He hides his face in his hands and weeps softly.) Forgive that man!

Marsden—(thinking timidly)

In short, forgive us our possessing as we forgive those who possessed before us … Mother must be wondering what keeps me so long … it's time for tea … I must go home …

Nina—(sadly) Oh, I forgive you. But do you understand now that I must somehow find a way to give myself to Gordon still, that I must pay my debt and learn to forgive myself?

Professor Leeds—Yes.

Nina—Mary will look after you.

Professor Leeds—Mary will do very well, I'm sure.

Marsden—(thinking)

Nina has changed … this is no place for me … Mother is waiting tea. …

(then venturing on an uncertain tone of pleasantry) Quite so, you two. But isn't this all nonsense? Nina will be back with us in a month, Professor, what with the depressing heat and humidity, and the more depressing halt and the lame!

Professor Leeds—(sharply) She must stay away until she gets well. This time I do speak for her sake.

Nina—I'll take the nine-forty. (turning to Marsden—with a sudden girlishness) Come on upstairs, Charlie, and help me pack! (She grabs him by the hand and starts to pull him away.)

Marsden—(shrugging his shoulders—confusedly) Well—I don't understand this!

Nina—(with a strange smile) But some day I'll read it all in one of your books, Charlie, and it'll be so simple and easy to understand that I won't be able to recognize it, Charlie, let alone understand it! (She laughs teasingly.) Dear old Charlie!

Marsden—(thinking in agony)

God damn in hell … dear old Charlie! …

(then with a genial grin) I'll have to propose, Nina, if you continue to be my severest critic! I'm a stickler for these little literary conventions, you know!

Nina—All right. Propose while we pack. (She leads him off, right.)

Professor Leeds—(blows his nose, wipes his eyes, sighs, clears his throat, squares his shoulders, pulls his coat down in front, sets his tie straight, and starts to take a brisk turn about the room. His face is washed blandly clean of all emotion.)

Three weeks now … new term … I will have to be looking over my notes. …

(He looks out of window, front.)

Grass parched in the middle … Tom forgotten the sprinkler … careless … ah, there goes Mr. Davis of the bank … bank … my salary will go farther now … books I really need … all bosh two can live as cheaply as one … there are worse things than being a trained nurse … good background of discipline … she needs it … she may meet rich fellow there … mature … only students here for her … and their fathers never approve if they have anything. …

(He sits down with a forced sigh of peace.)

I am glad we had it out … his ghost will be gone now … no more Gordon, Gordon, Gordon, love and praise and tears, all for Gordon! … Mary will do very well by me … I will have more leisure and peace of mind … and Nina will come back home … when she is well again … the old Nina! … my little Nina! … she knows and she forgave me … she said so … said! … but could she really? … don't you imagine? … deep in her heart? … she still must hate? … oh, God! … I feel cold! … alone! … this home is abandoned! … the house is empty and full of death! … there is a pain about my heart! …

(He calls hoarsely, getting to his feet) Nina!

Nina’s Voice—(Her voice, fresh and girlish, calls from upstairs) Yes, Father. Do you want me?

Professor Leeds—(struggling with himself—goes to door and calls with affectionate blandness) No. Never mind. Just wanted to remind you to call for a taxi in good time.

Nina’ s Voice—I won't forget.

Professor Leeds—(looks at his watch)

Five-thirty just … nine-forty, the train … then … Nina no more! … four hours more … she'll be packing … then good-bye … a kiss … nothing more ever to say to each other … and I'll die in here some day … alone … gasp, cry out for help … the president will speak at the funeral … Nina will be here again … Nina in black … too late! …

(He calls hoarsely) Nina! (There is no answer.)

In other room … doesn't hear … just as well …

(He turns to the bookcase and pulls out the first volume his hands come on and opens it at random and begins to read aloud sonorously like a child whistling to keep up his courage in the dark.)

         "Stetit unus in arcem
Erectus capitis victorque ad sidera mittit
Sidereos oculos propiusque adspectat Olympum
Inquiritque Iovem;" …

(Curtain)

ACT TWO

SCENE—The same as Scene One, Professor Leeds' study. It is about nine o'clock of a night in early fall, over a year later. The appearance of the room is unchanged except that all the shades, of the color of pale flesh, are drawn down, giving the windows a suggestion of lifeless closed eyes and making the room seem more withdrawn from life than before. The reading lamp on the table is lit. Everything on the table, papers, pencils, pens, etc., is arranged in meticulous order.

Marsden is seated on the chair at center. He is dressed carefully in an English made suit of blue serge so dark as to seem black, and which, combined with the gloomy brooding expression of his face, strongly suggests one in mourning. His tall, thin body sags wearily in the chair, his head is sunk forward, the chin almost touching his chest, his eyes stare sadly at nothing.

Marsden—(his thoughts at ebb, without emphasis, sluggish and melancholy)

Prophetic Professor! … I remember he once said … shortly after Nina went away … "some day, in here, … you'll find me" … did he foresee? … no … everything in life is so contemptuously accidental! … God's sneer at our self-importance! …

(smiling grimly)

Poor Professor! he was horribly lonely … tried to hide it … always telling you how beneficial the training at the hospital would be for her … poor old chap!…

(His voice grows husky and uncertain—he controls it—straightens himself)

What time is it? …

(He takes out his watch mechanically and looks at it.)

Ten after nine. … Nina ought to be here. …

(then with sudden bitterness)

Will she feel any real grief over his death, I wonder? … I doubt it! … but why am I so resentful? … the two times I've visited the hospital she's been pleasant enough … pleasantly evasive! … perhaps she thought her father had sent me to spy on her … poor Professor! … at least she answered his letters … he used to show them to me … pathetically overjoyed … newsy, loveless scripts, telling nothing whatever about herself … well, she won't have to compose them any more … she never answered mine … she might at least have acknowledged them. … Mother thinks she's behaved quite inexcusably …

(then jealously)

I suppose every single damned inmate has fallen in love with her! … her eyes seemed cynical … sick with men … as though I'd looked into the eyes of a prostitute … not that I ever have … except that once … the dollar house … hers were like patent leather buttons in a saucer of blue milk! …

(getting up with a movement of impatience)

The devil! … what beastly incidents our memories insist on cherishing! … the ugly and disgusting … the beautiful things we have to keep diaries to remember! …

(He smiles with a wry amusement for a second—then bitterly)

That last night Nina was here … she talked so brazenly about giving herself … I wish I knew the truth of what she's been doing in that house full of men … particularly that self-important young ass of a doctor! … Gordon's friend! …

(He frowns at himself, determinedly puts an end to his train of thought and comes and sits down again in the chair—in sneering, conversational tones as if he were this time actually addressing another person)

Really, it's hardly a decent time, is it, for that kind of speculation … with her father lying dead upstairs? …

(A silence as if he had respectably squelched himself—then he pulls out his watch mechanically and stares at it. As he does so a noise of a car is heard approaching, stopping at the curb beyond the garden. He jumps to his feet and starts to go to door—then hesitates confusedly.)

No, let Mary go … I wouldn't know what to do … take her in my arms? … kiss her? … right now? … or wait until she? …

(A bell rings insistently from the back of the house. From the front voices are heard, first Nina's, then a man's. Marsden starts, his face suddenly angry and dejected.)

Someone with her! … a man! … I thought she'd be alone! …

(Mary is heard shuffling to the front door which is opened. Immediately, as Mary sees Nina, she breaks down and there is the sound of her uncontrolled sobbing and choking, incoherent words drowning out Nina's voice, soothing her.)

Nina—(As Mary's grief subsides a trifle, her voice is heard, flat and toneless.) Isn't Mr. Marsden here, Mary? (She calls) Charlie!

Marsden—(confused—huskily) In here—I'm in the study, Nina. (He moves uncertainly toward the door.)

Nina—(comes in and stands just inside the doorway. She is dressed in a nurse's uniform with cap, a raglan coat over it. She appears older than in the previous scene, her face is pale and much thinner, her cheek bones stand out, her mouth is taut in hard lines of a cynical scorn. Her eyes try to armor her wounded spirit with a defensive stare of disillusionment. Her training has also tended to coarsen her fiber a trifle, to make her insensitive to suffering, to give her the nurse's professionally callous attitude. In her fight to regain control of her nerves she has over-striven after the cool and efficient poise, but she is really in a more highly strung, disorganized state than ever, although she is now more capable of suppressing and concealing it. She remains strikingly handsome and her physical appeal is enhanced by her pallor and the mysterious suggestion about her of hidden experience. She stares at Marsden blankly and speaks in queer flat tones.) Hello, Charlie. He's dead, Mary says.

Marsden—(nodding his head several times—stupidly) Yes.

Nina—(in same tones) It's too bad. I brought Doctor Darrell. I thought there might be a chance. (She pauses and looks about the room—thinking confusedly)

His books … his chair … he always sat there … there's his table … little Nina was never allowed to touch anything … she used to sit on his lap … cuddle against him … dreaming into the dark beyond the windows … warm in his arms before the fireplace … dreams like sparks soaring up to die in the cold dark … warm in his love, safe-drifting into sleep … "Daddy's girl, aren't you?" …

(She looks around and then up and down.)

His home … my home … he was my father … he's dead …

(She shakes her head.)

Yes, I hear you, little Nina, but I don't understand one word of it. …

(She smiles with a cynical self-contempt.)

I'm sorry, Father! … you see you've been dead for me a long time … when Gordon died, all men died … what did you feel for me then? … nothing … and now I feel nothing … it's too bad …

Marsden—(thinking woundedly)

I hoped she would throw herself in my arms … weeping … hide her face on my shoulder … "Oh, Charlie, you're all I've got left in the world …"

(then angrily)

Why did she have to bring that Darrell with her?

Nina—(flatly) When I said good-bye that night I had a premonition I'd never see him again.

Marsden—(glad of this opening for moral indignation) You've never tried to see him, Nina! (then overcome by disgust with himself—contritely) Forgive me! It was rotten of me to say that!

Nina—(shaking her head—flatly) I didn't want him to see what he would have thought was me. (ironically) That's the other side of it you couldn't dissect into words from here, Charlie! (then suddenly asking a necessary question in her nurse's cool, efficient tones) Is he upstairs? (Marsden nods stupidly.) I'll take Ned up. I might as well. (She turns and walks out briskly.)

Marsden—(staring after her—dully)

That isn't Nina. …

(indignantly)

They've killed her soul down there! …

(Tears come to his eyes suddenly and he pulls out his handkerchief and wipes them, muttering huskily)

Poor old Professor! …

(then suddenly jeering at himself)

For God's sake, stop acting! … it isn't the Professor! … dear old Charlie is crying because she didn't weep on his shoulder … as he had hoped! …

(He laughs harshly—then suddenly sees a man outside the doorway and stares—then calls sharply) Who's that?

Evans—(his voice embarrassed and hesitating comes from the hall) It's all right. (He appears in the doorway, grinning bashfully.) It's me—I, I mean—Miss Leeds told me to come in here. (He stretches out his hand awkwardly.) Guess you don't remember me, Mr. Marsden. Miss Leeds introduced us one day at the hospital. You were leaving just as I came in. Evans is my name.

Marsden—(who has been regarding him with waning resentment, forces a cordial smile and shakes hands) Oh, yes. At first I couldn't place you.

Evans—(awkwardly) I sort of feel I'm butting in.

Marsden—(beginning to be taken by his likable boyish quality) Not at all. Sit down. (He sits in the rocker at center as Evans goes to the bench at right. Evans sits uncomfortably hunched forward, twiddling his hat in his hands. He is above the medium height, very blond, with guileless, diffident blue eyes, his figure inclined to immature lumbering outlines. His face is fresh and red-cheeked, handsome in a boyish fashion. His manner is bashful with women or older men, coltishly playful with his friends. There is a lack of self confidence, a lost and strayed appealing air about him, yet with a hint of some unawakened obstinate force beneath his apparent weakness. Although he is twenty-five and has been out of college three years, he still wears the latest in collegiate clothes and as he looks younger than he is, he is always mistaken for an undergraduate and likes to be. It keeps him placed in life for himself.)

Marsden—(studying him keenly—amused)

This is certainly no giant intellect … overgrown boy … likable quality though …

Evans—(uneasy under Marsden's eyes)

Giving me the once-over … seems like good egg … Nina says he is … suppose I ought to say something about his books, but I can't even remember a title of one …

(He suddenly blurts out) You've known Nina—Miss Leeds—ever since she was a kid, haven't you?

Marsden—(a bit shortly) Yes. How long have you known her?

Evans—Well—really only since she's been at the hospital, although I met her once years ago at a Prom with Gordon Shaw.

Marsden—(indifferently) Oh, you knew Gordon?

Evans—(proudly) Sure thing! I was in his class! (with admiration amounting to hero-worship) He sure was a wonder, wasn't he?

Marsden—(cynically)

Gordon über alles and forever! … I begin to appreciate the Professor's viewpoint …

(casually) A fine boy! Did you know him well?

Evans—No. The crowd he went with were mostly fellows who were good at sports—and I always was a dud. (forcing a smile) I was always one of the first to get bounced off the squad in any sport. (then with a flash of humble pride) But I never quit trying, anyway!

Marsden—(consolingly) Well, the sport hero usually doesn't star after college.

Evans—Gordon did! (eagerly—with intense admiration) In the war! He was an ace! And he always fought just as cleanly as he'd played football! Even the Huns respected him!

Marsden—(thinking cynically)

This Gordon worshipper must be the apple of Nina's eye! …

(casually) Were you in the army?

Evans—(shamefacedly) Yes—infantry—but I never got to the front—never saw anything exciting. (thinking glumly)

Won't tell him I tried for flying service … wanted to get in Gordon's outfit … couldn't make the physical exam … never made anything I wanted … suppose I'll lose out with Nina, too …

(then rallying himself)

Hey, you! … what's the matter with you? … don't quit! …

Marsden—(who has been staring at him inquisitively) How did you happen to come out here tonight?

Evans—I was calling on Nina when your wire came. Ned thought I better come along, too—might be of some use.

Marsden—(frowning) You mean Doctor Darrell? (Evans nods.) Is he a close friend of yours?

Evans—(hesitatingly) Well, sort of. Roomed in the same dorm with me at college. He was a senior when I was a freshman. Used to help me along in lots of ways. Took pity on me, I was so green. Then about a year ago when I went to the hospital to visit a fellow who'd been in my outfit I ran into him again. (then with a grin) But I wouldn't say Ned was close to anyone. He's a dyed-in-the-wool doc. He's only close to whatever's the matter with you! (He chuckles—then hastily) But don't get me wrong about him. He's the best egg ever! You know him, don't you?

Marsden—(stiffly) Barely. Nina introduced us once. (thinking bitterly)

He's upstairs alone with her … I hoped it would be I who …

Evans—

Don't want him to get the wrong idea of Ned … Ned's my best friend … doing all he can to help me with Nina … he thinks she'll marry me in the end … God, if she only would! … I wouldn't expect her to love me at first … be happy only to take care of her … cook her breakfast … bring it up to her in bed … tuck the pillows behind her … comb her hair for her … I'd be happy just to kiss her hair! …

Marsden—(agitated—thinking suspiciously)

What are Darrell's relations with Nina? … close to what's the matter with her? … damned thoughts! … why should I care? … I'll ask this Evans … pump him while I have a chance …

(with forced indifference) Is your friend, the Doctor, "close" to Miss Leeds? She's had quite a lot the matter with her since her breakdown, if that's what interests him! (He smiles casually.)

Evans—(gives a start, awakening from his dream) Oh—er—yes. He's always trying to bully her into taking better care of herself, but she only laughs at him. (soberly) It'd be much better if she'd take his advice.

Marsden—(suspiciously) No doubt.

Evans—(pronounces with boyish solemnity) She isn't herself, Mr. Marsden. And I think nursing all those poor guys keeps the war before her when she ought to forget it. She ought to give up nursing and be nursed for a change, that's my idea.

Marsden—(struck by this—eagerly) Exactly my opinion. (thinking)

If she'd settle down here … I could come over every day … I'd nurse her … Mother home … Nina here … how I could work then! …

Evans—(thinking)

He certainly seems all for me … so far! …

(then in a sudden flurry)

Shall I tell him? … he'll be like her guardian now … I've got to know how he stands …

(He starts with a solemn earnestness.) Mr. Marsden, I—there's something I ought to tell you, I think. You see, Nina's talked a lot about you. I know how much she thinks of you. And now her old man—(He hesitates in confusion.) I mean, her father's dead—

Marsden—(in a sort of panic—thinking)

What's this? … proposal? … in form? … for her hand? … to me? … Father Charlie now, eh? … ha! … God, what a fool! … does he imagine she'd ever love him? … but she might … not bad looking … likable, innocent … something to mother …

Evans—(blundering on regardless now) I know it's hardly the proper time—

Marsden—(interrupting—dryly) Perhaps I can anticipate. You want to tell me you're in love with Nina?

Evans—Yes, sir, and I've asked her to marry me.

Marsden—What did she say?

Evans—(sheepishly) Nothing. She just smiled.

Marsden—(with relief) Ah. (then harshly) Well, what could you expect? Surely you must know she still loves Gordon?

Evans—(manfully) Sure I know it—and I admire her for it! Most girls forget too easily. She ought to love Gordon for a long time yet. And I know I'm an awful wash-out compared to him—but I love her as much as he did, or anyone could! And I'll work my way up for her—I know I can!—so I can give her everything she wants. And I wouldn't ask for anything in return except the right to take care of her. (blurts out confusedly) I never think of her—that way—she's too beautiful and wonderful—not that I don't hope she'd come to love me in time—

Marsden—(sharply) And just what do you expect me to do about all this?

Evans—(taken aback) Why—er—nothing, sir. I just thought you ought to know. (Sheepishly he glances up at ceiling, then down at floor, twiddling his hat.)

Marsden—(thinking—at first with a grudging appreciation and envy)

He thinks he means that … pure love! … it's easy to talk … he doesn't know life … but he might be good for Nina … if she were married to this simpleton would she be faithful? … and then I? … what a vile thought! … I don't mean that! …

(then forcing a kindly tone) You see, there's really nothing I can do about it. (with a smile) If Nina will, she will—and if she won't, she won't. But I can wish you good luck.

Evans—(immediately all boyish gratitude) Thanks! That's darn fine of you, Mr. Marsden!

Marsden—But I think we'd better let the subject drop, don't you? We're forgetting that her father—

Evans—(guiltily embarrassed) Yes—sure—I'm a damn fool! Excuse me! (There is the noise of steps from the hall and Doctor Edmund Darrell enters. He is twenty-seven, short, dark, wiry, his movements rapid and sure, his manner cool and observant, his dark eyes analytical. His head is handsome and intelligent. There is a quality about him, provoking and disturbing to women, of intense passion which he has rigidly trained himself to control and set free only for the objective satisfaction of studying his own and their reactions; and so he has come to consider himself as immune to love through his scientific understanding of its real sexual nature. He sees Evans and Marsden, nods at Marsden silently, who returns it coldly, goes to the table and taking a prescription pad from his pocket, hastily scratches on it.)

Marsden—(thinking sneeringly)

Amusing, these young doctors! … perspire with the effort to appear cool! … writing a prescription … cough medicine for the corpse, perhaps! … good-looking? … more or less … attractive to women, I dare say. …

Darrell—(tears it off—hands it to Evans) Here, Sam. Run along up the street and get this filled.

Evans—(with relief) Sure. Glad of the chance for a walk. (He goes out, rear.)

Darrell—(turning to Marsden) It's for Nina. She's got to get some sleep tonight. (He sits down abruptly in the chair at center. Marsden unconsciously takes the Professor's place behind the table. The two men stare at each other for a moment, Darrell with a frank probing, examining look that ruffles Marsden and makes him all the more resentful toward him.)

This Marsden doesn't like me … that's evident … but he interests me … read his books … wanted to know his bearing on Nina's case … his novels just well-written surface … no depth, no digging underneath … why? … has the talent but doesn't dare … afraid he'll meet himself somewhere … one of those poor devils who spend their lives trying not to discover which sex they belong to! …

Marsden—

Giving me the fishy, diagnosing eye they practice at medical school … like freshmen from Ioway cultivating broad A's at Harvard! … what is his specialty? … neurologist, I think … I hope not psychoanalyst … a lot to account for, Herr Freud! … punishment to fit his crimes, be forced to listen eternally during breakfast while innumerable plain ones tell him dreams about snakes … pah, what an easy cure-all! … sex the philosopher's stone … "O Oedipus, O my king! The world is adopting you!" …

Darrell—

Must pitch into him about Nina … have to have his help … damn little time to convince him … he's the kind you have to explode a bomb under to get them to move … but not too big a bomb … they blow to pieces easily …

(brusquely) Nina's gone to pot again! Not that her father's death is a shock in the usual sense of grief. I wish to God it were! No, it's a shock because it's finally convinced her she can't feel anything any more. That's what she's doing upstairs now—trying to goad herself into feeling something!

Marsden—(resentfully) I think you're mistaken. She loved her father—

Darrell—(shortly and dryly) We can't waste time being sentimental, Marsden! She'll be down any minute, and I've got a lot to talk over with you. (as Marsden seems again about to protest) Nina has a real affection for you and I imagine you have for her. Then you'll want as much as I do to get her straightened out. She's a corking girl. She ought to have every chance for a happy life. (then sharply driving his words in) But the way she's conditioned now, there's no chance. She's piled on too many destructive experiences. A few more and she'll dive for the gutter just to get the security that comes from knowing she's touched bottom and there's no farther to go!

Marsden—(revolted and angry, half-springs to his feet) Look here, Darrell, I'll be damned if I'll listen to such a ridiculous statement!

Darrell—(curtly—with authority) How do you know it's ridiculous? What do you know of Nina since she left home? But she hadn't been nursing with us three days before I saw she really ought to be a patient; and ever since then I've studied her case. So I think it's up to you to listen.

Marsden—(freezingly) I'm listening. (with apprehensive terror)

Gutter … has she … I wish he wouldn't tell me! …

Darrell—(thinking)

How much need I tell him? … can't tell him the raw truth about her promiscuity … he isn't built to face reality … no writer is outside of his books … have to tone it down for him … but not too much! …

Nina has been giving way more and more to a morbid longing for martyrdom. The reason for it is obvious. Gordon went away without—well, let's say marrying her. The war killed him. She was left suspended. Then she began to blame herself and to want to sacrifice herself and at the same time give happiness to various fellow war-victims by pretending to love them. It's a pretty idea but it hasn't worked out. Nina's a bad actress. She hasn't convinced the men of her love—or herself of her good intentions. And each experience of this kind has only left her more a prey to a guilty conscience than before and more determined to punish herself!

Marsden—(thinking)

What does he mean? … how far did she? … how many? …

(coldly and sneeringly) May I ask on what specific actions of hers this theory of yours is based?

Darrell—(coldly in turn) On her evident craving to make an exhibition of kissing, necking, petting—whatever you call it—spooning in general—with any patient in the institution who got a case on her! (ironically—thinking)

Spooning! … rather a mild word for her affairs … but strong enough for this ladylike soul. …

Marsden—(bitterly)

He's lying! … what's he trying to hide? … was he one of them? … her lover? … I must get her away from him … get her to marry Evans! …

(with authority) Then she mustn't go back to your hospital, that's certain!

Darrell—(quickly) You're quite right. And that brings me to what I want you to urge her to do.

Marsden—(thinking suspiciously)

He doesn't want her back … I must have been wrong … but there might be many reasons why he'd wish to get rid of her …

(coldly) I think you exaggerate my influence.

Darrell—(eagerly) Not a bit. You're the last link connecting her with the girl she used to be before Gordon's death. You're closely associated in her mind with that period of happy security, of health and peace of mind. I know that from the way she talks about you. You're the only person she still respects—and really loves. (as Marsden starts guiltily and glances at him in confusion—with a laugh) Oh, you needn't look frightened. I mean the sort of love she'd feel for an uncle.

Marsden—(thinking in agony)

Frightened? … was I? … only person she loves … and then he said "love she'd feel for an uncle" … Uncle Charlie now! … God damn him! …

Darrell—(eyeing him)

Looks damnably upset … wants to evade all responsibility for her, I suppose … he's that kind … all the better! … he'll be only too anxious to get her safely married. …

(bluntly) And that's why I've done all this talking. You've got to help snap her out of this.

Marsden—(bitterly) And how, if I may ask?

Darrell—There's only one way I can see. Get her to marry Sam Evans.

Marsden—(astonished) Evans? (He makes a silly gesture toward the door—thinking confusedly)

Wrong again … why does he want her married to … it's some trick. …

Darrell—Yes, Evans. He's in love with her. And it's one of those unselfish loves you read about. And she is fond of him. In a maternal way, of course—but that's just what she needs now, someone she cares about to mother and boss and keep her occupied. And still more important, this would give her a chance to have children. She's got to find normal outlets for her craving for sacrifice. She needs normal love objects for the emotional life Gordon's death blocked up in her. Now marrying Sam ought to do the trick. Ought to. Naturally, no one can say for certain. But I think his unselfish love, combined with her real liking for him, will gradually give her back a sense of security and a feeling of being worth something to life again, and once she's got that, she'll be saved! (He has spoken with persuasive feeling. He asks anxiously) Doesn't that seem good sense to you?

Marsden—(suspicious—dryly non-committal) I'm sorry but I'm in no position to say. I don't know anything about Evans, for one thing.

Darrell—(emphatically) Well, I do. He's a fine healthy boy, clean and unspoiled. You can take my word for that. And I'm convinced he's got the right stuff in him to succeed, once he grows up and buckles down to work. He's only a big kid now, but all he needs is a little self-confidence and a sense of responsibility. He's holding down a fair job, too, considering he's just started in the advertising game—enough to keep them living. (with a slight smile) I'm prescribing for Sam, too, when I boost this wedding.

Marsden—(his snobbery coming out) Do you know his family—what sort of people?—

Darrell—(bitingly) I'm not acquainted with their social qualifications, if that's what you mean! They're upstate country folks—fruit growers and farmers, well off, I believe. Simple, healthy people, I'm sure of that although I've never met them.

Marsden—(a bit shamefacedly—changing the subject hastily) Have you suggested this match to Nina?

Darrell—Yes, a good many times lately in a half-joking way. If I were serious she wouldn't listen, she'd say I was prescribing. But I think what I've said has planted it in her mind as a possibility.

Marsden—(thinking suspiciously)

Is this Doctor her lover? … trying to pull the wool over my eyes? … use me to arrange a convenient triangle for him? …

(harshly—but trying to force a joking tone) Do you know what I'm inclined to suspect, Doctor? That you may be in love with Nina yourself!

Darrell—(astonished) The deuce you do! What in the devil makes you think that? Not that any man mightn't fall in love with Nina. Most of them do. But I didn't happen to. And what's more I never could. In my mind she always belongs to Gordon. It's probably a reflection of her own silly fixed idea about him. (suddenly, dryly and harshly) And I couldn't share a woman—even with a ghost! (thinking cynically)

Not to mention the living who have had her! … Sam doesn't know about them … and I'll bet he couldn't believe it of her even if she confessed! …

Marsden—(thinking baffledly)

Wrong again! … he isn't lying … but I feel he's hiding something … why does he speak so resentfully of Gordon's memory? … why do I sympathize? …

(in a strange mocking ironic tone) I can quite appreciate your feeling about Gordon. I wouldn't care to share with a ghost-lover myself. That species of dead is so invulnerably alive! Even a doctor couldn't kill one, eh? (He forces a laugh—then in a friendly confidential tone) Gordon is too egregious for a ghost. That was the way Nina's father felt about him, too. (suddenly reminded of the dead man—in penitently sad tones), You didn't know her father, did you? A charming old fellow!

Darrell—(hearing a noise from the hall—warningly) Sstt! (Nina enters slowly. She looks from one to the other with a queer, quick, inquisitive stare, but her face is a pale expressionless mask drained of all emotional response to human contacts. It is as if her eyes were acting on their own account as restless, prying, recording instruments. The two men have risen and stare at her anxiously. Darrell moves back and to one side until he is standing in relatively the same place as Marsden had occupied in the previous scene while Marsden is in her father's place and she stops where she had been. There is a pause. Then just as each of the men is about to speak, she answers as if they had asked a question.)

Nina—(in a queer flat voice) Yes, he's dead—my father—whose passion created me—who began me—he is ended. There is only his end living—his death. It lives now to draw nearer me, to draw me nearer, to become my end! (then with a strange twisted smile) How we poor monkeys hide from ourselves behind the sounds called words!

Marsden—(thinking frightenedly)

How terrible she is! … who is she? … not my Nina! …

(as if to reassure himself—timidly) Nina! (Darrell makes an impatient gesture for him to let her go on. What she is saying interests him and he feels talking it out will do her good. She looks at Marsden for a moment startledly as if she couldn't recognize him.)

Nina—What? (then placing him—with real affection that is like a galling goad to him) Dear old Charlie!

Marsden—

Dear damned Charlie! … She loves to torture! …

(then forcing a smile—soothingly) Yes, Nina Cara Nina! Right here!

Nina—(forcing a smile) You look frightened, Charlie. Do I seem queer? It's because I've suddenly seen the lies in the sounds called words. You know—grief, sorrow, love, father—those sounds our lips make and our hands write. You ought to know what I mean. You work with them. Have you written another novel lately? But, stop to think, you're just the one who couldn't know what I mean. With you the lies have become the only truthful things. And I suppose that's the logical conclusion to the whole evasive mess, isn't it? Do you understand me, Charlie? Say lie—(She says it, drawing it out.) L-i-i-e! Now say life. L-i-i-f-e! You see! Life is just a long drawn out lie with a sniffling sigh at the end! (She laughs.)

Marsden—(in strange agony)

She's hard! … like a whore! … tearing your heart with dirty finger nails! … my Nina! … cruel bitch! … some day I won't bear it! … I'll scream out the truth about every woman! … no kinder at heart than dollar tarts! …

(then in a passion of remorse)

Forgive me, Mother! … I didn't mean all! …

Darrell—(a bit worried himself now—persuasively) Why not sit down, Nina, and let us two gentlemen sit down?

Nina—(smiling at him swiftly and mechanically) Oh, all right, Ned. (She sits at center. He comes and sits on the bench. Marsden sits by the table. She continues sarcastically.) Are you prescribing for me again, Ned? This is my pet doctor, Charlie. He couldn't be happy in heaven unless God called him in because He'd caught something! Did you ever know a young scientist, Charlie? He believes if you pick a lie to pieces, the pieces are the truth! I like him because he's so inhuman. But once he kissed me—in a moment of carnal weakness! I was as startled as if a mummy had done it! And then he looked so disgusted with himself! I had to laugh! (She smiles at him with a pitying scorn.)

Darrell—(good-naturedly smiling) That's right! Rub it in! (ruffled but amused in spite of it)

I'd forgotten about that kiss … I was sore at myself afterwards … she was so damned indifferent! …

Nina—(wanderingly) Do you know what I was doing upstairs? I was trying to pray. I tried hard to pray to the modern science God. I thought of a million light years to a spiral nebula—one other universe among innumerable others. But how could that God care about our trifling misery of death-born-of-birth? I couldn't believe in Him, and I wouldn't if I could! I'd rather imitate His indifference and prove I had that one trait at least in common!

Marsden—(worriedly) Nina, why don't you lie down?

Nina—(jeeringly) Oh, let me talk, Charlie! They're only words, remember! So many many words have jammed up into thoughts in my poor head! You'd better let them overflow or they'll burst the dam! I wanted to believe in any God at any price—a heap of stones, a mud image, a drawing on a wall, a bird, a fish, a snake, a baboon—or even a good man preaching the simple platitudes of truth, those Gospel words we love the sound of but whose meaning we pass on to spooks to live by!

Marsden—(again—half-rising—frightenedly) Nina! You ought to stop talking. You'll work yourself into—(He glances angrily at Darrell as if demanding that, as a doctor, he do something.)

Nina—(with bitter hopelessness) Oh, all right!

Darrell—(answering his look—thinking)

You poor fool! … it'll do her good to talk this out of her system … and then it'll be up to you to bring her around to Sam …

(starts toward the door) Think I'll go out and stretch my legs.

Marsden—(thinking—in a panic)

I don't want to be alone with her! … I don't know her! … I'm afraid! …

(protestingly) Well—but—hold on—I'm sure Nina would rather—

Nina—(dully) Let him go. I've said everything I can ever say—to him. I want to talk to you, Charlie. (Darrell goes out noiselessly with a meaning look at Marsden—a pause.)

Marsden—(thinking tremblingly)

Here … now … what I hoped … she and I alone … she will cry … I will comfort her … why am I so afraid? … whom do I fear? … is it she? … or I? …

Nina—(suddenly, with pity yet with scorn) Why have you always been so timid, Charlie? Why are you always afraid? What are you afraid of?

Marsden—(thinking in a panic)

She sneaked into my soul to spy! …

(then boldly)

Well then, a little truth for once in a way! …

(timidly) I'm afraid of—of life, Nina.

Nina—(nodding slowly) I know. (after a pause—queerly) The mistake began when God was created in a male image. Of course, women would see Him that way, but men should have been gentlemen enough, remembering their mothers, to make God a woman! But the God of Gods—the Boss—has always been a man. That makes life so perverted, and death so unnatural. We should have imagined life as created in the birth-pain of God the Mother. Then we would understand why we, Her children, have inherited pain, for we would know that our life's rhythm beats from Her great heart, torn with the agony of love and birth. And we would feel that death meant reunion with Her, a passing back into Her substance, blood of Her blood again, peace of Her peace! (Marsden has been listening to her fascinatedly. She gives a strange little laugh.) Now wouldn't that be more logical and satisfying than having God a male whose chest thunders with egotism and is too hard for tired heads and thoroughly comfortless? Wouldn't it, Charlie?

Marsden—(with a strange passionate eagerness) Yes! It would, indeed! It would, Nina!

Nina—(suddenly jumping to her feet and going to him—with a horrible moaning desolation) Oh, God, Charlie, I want to believe in something! I want to believe so I can feel! I want to feel that he is dead—my father! And I can't feel anything, Charlie! I can't feel anything at all! (She throws herself on her knees beside him and hides her face in her hands on his knees and begins to sob—stifled torn sounds.)

Marsden—(bends down, pats her head with trembling hands, soothes her with uncertain trembling words) There—there—don't—Nina, please—don't cry—you'll make yourself sick—come now—get up—do! (His hands grasping her arms he half raises her to her feet, but, her face still hidden in her hands, sobbing, she slips on to his lap like a little girl and hides her face on his shoulder. His expression becomes transported with a great happiness. In an ecstatic whisper)

As I dreamed … with a deeper sweetness! …

(He kisses her hair with a great reverence.)

There … this is all my desire … I am this kind of lover … this is my love … she is my girl … not woman … my little girl … and I am brave because of her little girl's pure love … and I am proud … no more afraid … no more ashamed of being pure! …

(He kisses her hair again tenderly and smiles at himself. Then soothingly with a teasing incongruous gaiety) This will never do,

Nina Cara Nina—never, never do, you know—I can't permit it!

Nina—(in a muffled voice, her sobbing beginning to ebb away into sighs—in a young girl's voice) Oh, Charlie, you're so kind and comforting! I've wanted you so!

Marsden—(immediately disturbed)

Wanted? … wanted? … not that kind of wanted … can she mean? …

(questioning hesitatingly) You've wanted me, Nina?

Nina—Yes,—awfully! I've been so homesick. I've wanted to run home and 'fess up, tell how bad I've been, and be punished! Oh, I've got to be punished, Charlie, out of mercy for me, so I can forgive myself! And now Father dead, there's only you. You will, won't you—or tell me how to punish myself? You've simply got to, if you love me!

Marsden—(thinking intensely)

If I love her! … oh, I do love her! …

(eagerly) Anything you wish, Nina—anything!

Nina—(with a comforted smile, closing her eyes and cuddling up against him) I knew you would. Dear old Charlie! (as he gives a wincing start) What is it? (She looks up into his face.)

Marsden—(forcing a smile—ironically) Twinge—rheumatics—getting old, Nina. (thinking with wild agony)

Dear old Charlie! … descended again into hell! …

(then in a flat voice) What do you want to be punished for, Nina?

Nina—(in a strange, far-away tone, looking up not at him but at the ceiling) For playing the silly slut, Charlie. For giving my cool clean body to men with hot hands and greedy eyes which they called love! Ugh! (A shiver runs over her body.)

Marsden—(thinking with sudden agony)

Then she did! … the little filth! …

(in his flat voice) You mean you—(then pleadingly) But not—Darrell?

Nina—(with simple surprise) Ned? No, how could I? The war hadn't maimed him. There would have been no point in that. But I did with others—oh, four or five or six or seven men, Charlie. I forget—and it doesn't matter. They were all the same. Count them all as one, and that one a ghost of nothing. That is, to me. They were important to themselves, if I remember rightly. But I forget.

Marsden—(thinking in agony)

But why? … the dirty little trollop! … why? …

(in his flat voice) Why did you do this, Nina?

Nina—(with a sad little laugh) God knows, Charlie! Perhaps I knew at the time but I've forgotten. It's all mixed up. There was a desire to be kind. But it's horribly hard to give anything, and frightful to receive! And to give love—oneself—not in this world! And men are difficult to please, Charlie. I seemed to feel Gordon standing against a wall with eyes bandaged and these men were a firing squad whose eyes were also bandaged—and only I could see! No, I was the blindest! I would not see! I knew it was a stupid, morbid business, that I was more maimed than they were, really, that the war had blown my heart and insides out! And I knew too that I was torturing these tortured men, morbidly super-sensitive already, that they loathed the cruel mockery of my gift! Yet I kept on, from one to one, like a stupid, driven animal until one night not long ago I had a dream of Gordon diving down out of the sky in flames and he looked at me with such sad burning eyes, and all my poor maimed men, too, seemed staring out of his eyes with a burning pain, and I woke up crying, my own eyes burning. Then I saw what a fool I'd been—a guilty fool! So be kind and punish me!

Marsden—(thinking with bitter confusion)

I wish she hadn't told me this … it has upset me terribly! … I positively must run home at once … Mother is waiting up … oh, how I'd love to hate this little whore! … then I could punish! … I wish her father were alive … "now he's dead there's only you," she said … "I've wanted you," …

(with intense bitterness)

Dear old Father Charlie now! … ha! … that's how she wants me! …

(then suddenly in a matter-of-fact tone that is mockingly like her father's) Then, under the circumstances, having weighed the pros and cons, so to speak, I should say that decidedly the most desirable course—

Nina—(drowsily—her eyes shut) You sound so like Father, Charlie.

Marsden—(in the tone like her father's)—is for you to marry that young Evans. He is a splendid chap, clean and boyish, with real stuff in him, too, to make a career for himself if he finds a helpmeet who will inspire him to his best efforts and bring his latent ability to the surface.

Nina—(drowsily) Sam is a nice boy. Yes, it would be a career for me to bring a career to his surface. I would be busy—surface life—no more depths, please God! But I don't love him, Father.

Marsden—(blandly—in the tone like her father's) But you like him, Nina. And he loves you devotedly. And it's time you were having children—and when children come, love comes, you know.

Nina—(drowsily) I want children. I must become a mother so I can give myself. I am sick of sickness.

Marsden—(briskly) Then it's all settled?

Nina—(drowsily) Yes. (very sleepily) Thank you, Father. You've been so kind. You've let me off too easily. I don't feel as if you'd punished me hardly at all. But I'll never, never do it again, I promise—never, never!—(She falls asleep and gives a soft little snore.)

Marsden—(still in her father's tones—very paternally—looking down) She's had a hard day of it, poor child! I'll carry her up to her room. (He rises to his feet with Nina sleeping peacefully in his arms. At this moment Sam Evans enters from the right with the package of medicine in his hand.)

Evans—(grinning respectfully) Here's the—(as he sees Nina) Oh! (then excitedly) Did she faint?

Marsden—(smiling kindly at Evans—still in her father's tones) Sssh! She's asleep. She cried and then she fell asleep—like a little girl. (then benignantly) But first we spoke a word about you, Evans, and I'm sure you have every reason to hope.

Evans—(overcome, his eyes on his shuffling feet and twiddling cap) Thanks—I—I really don't know how to thank—

Marsden—(going to door—in his own voice now) I've got to go home. My mother is waiting up for me. I'll just carry Nina upstairs and put her on her bed and throw something over her.

Evans—Can't I help you, Mr. Marsden?

Marsden—(dully) No. I cannot help myself. (As Evans looks puzzled and startled he adds with an ironical, self-mocking geniality) You'd better call me just Charlie after this. (He smiles bitterly to himself as he goes out.)

Evans—(looks after him for a moment—then cannot restrain a joyful, coltish caper—gleefully) Good egg! Good old Charlie! (As if he had heard or guessed, Marsden's bitter laugh comes back from the end of the hallway.)

(Curtain)