MRS. HUNTER. I don't know anything about politics! But I could count a dozen women in a breath, all divorced, or trying to be, or _ought_ to be!

RUTH. And each one of them getting a cold shoulder.

BLANCHE. What of it if their hearts are warm--poor climbers after happiness!

RUTH. Believe me, dear, the chill spreads. You're going to be selfish?

MRS. HUNTER. She's going to be sensible.

[CLARA _enters Right._

CLARA. h.e.l.lo, everybody! I just saw d.i.c.k coming out of his room and I cut him dead.

BLANCHE. Clara!

RUTH. [_To_ BLANCHE.] You've taken a certain responsibility upon yourself, and you can't shirk it.

BLANCHE. He isn't what I thought him!

RUTH. The day the sun shone on you as a bride, in G.o.d's presence, you said you took him for better for worse--

CLARA. Dear me, is that in it? The marriage service ought to be expurgated!

RUTH. [_To_ CLARA.] I'm ashamed of you.

CLARA. That's nothing new!

BLANCHE. Aunt Ruth, let us talk some other time.

MRS. HUNTER. Oh, if we are in the way, we'll go!

[_Rises._

CLARA. Yes, come on, let's go to Atlantic City.

MRS. HUNTER. No, I'd rather go to Lakewood.

CLARA. Oh, pshaw, Lakewood's no fun! I'm surprised you don't say go to Aiken, North Carolina.

MRS. HUNTER. Mr. Trotter says we can't leave town anyway while Blanche is in this trouble.

BLANCHE. Mother, please discuss your affairs somewhere else.

RUTH. And if I may be permitted to suggest, you will find Mr. Trotter's advice always pretty good to follow. That young man has better qualities than we have suspected. I have some thing to thank him for; will you be good enough to ask him to come and see me?

MRS. HUNTER. He will not go to your house with my permission. I shall tell him you have never asked me inside your door.

CLARA. Mother, if you ask _me_--[MRS. HUNTER _interjects_ "Which I don't," _but_ CLARA _continues without paying any attention to the interruption._]--I don't think Mr. Trotter is going to cry himself to sleep for your permission about anything!

MRS. HUNTER. [_To_ BLANCHE.] Good-by, my dear; if you want me, let me know; I'll be glad to do anything I can. I'm staying at the Waldorf.

CLARA. It's full of people from Kansas and Wyoming Territory come to hear the Opera!

RUTH. A little western blood wouldn't hurt our New York life a bit!

CLARA. Ah! Got you there! The west is the place where the divorces come from!

MRS. HUNTER. [_Laughs._] What's the matter with Providence? I think Rhode Island tips the scales pretty even for the east!

BLANCHE. Please go, mother; please leave me for a little while.

MRS. HUNTER. Oh, very well, good-by! [LEONARD _enters Right with a Christmas parcel, which he places on the table Right._] Dear me, have you had all these Christmas presents and not opened them?

BLANCHE. It is only little Richard in this house who is celebrating Christmas to-day.

MRS. HUNTER. It's a terrible affair; I only hope the newspapers won't get hold of it. [_To_ LEONARD.] If any women come here asking for _me_ who look like ladies, don't let 'em in! They ain't my friends; they're reporters.

[LEONARD _bows and goes out._

CLARA. I'm awfully sorry, Blanche, I honestly am; but I think you'll have only yourself to blame if you don't strike out now and throw d.i.c.k over. Good-by!

[MRS. HUNTER _and_ CLARA _go out Right._

BLANCHE. I wish _they_ wouldn't advise me to do what I _want_ to.

RUTH. Ah!

BLANCHE. But who do I harm by it? Surely, it wouldn't be for _his_ good to be brought up under the influence of his father!

RUTH. If he saw you patiently bearing a cross for the sake of duty, can you imagine a stronger force for good on the boy's character? What an example _you_ will set him! What a chance for a mother!

BLANCHE. But my own life, my own happiness?

RUTH. Ah, my dear, that's just it! The watchword of our age is self! We are all for ourselves; the twentieth century is to be a glorification of selfishness, the Era of Egotism! Forget yourself, and what would you do?

The dignified thing. You would live quietly _beside_ your husband if not _with_ him. And your son would be worthy of such a mother!

BLANCHE. And I?

RUTH. You would be _glad_ in the end.

BLANCHE. Perhaps--

RUTH. Surely! Blanche, for twenty years Mr. Mason and I have loved each other.

[BLANCHE _is astonished. There is a pause._

[RUTH _smiles while she speaks, though her voice breaks._]