EMILY--[Pettishly.] The whole town knows it, anyway; I'm sure they must.

JAYSON--There's only been gossip--no real scandal. Let's do our united best to keep it at that. [After a pause.] Where's Aunt Elizabeth? We'll have to keep an eye on her, too, or she's quite liable to blurt out the whole business before all comers.

ESTHER--You needn't be afraid. She's forgotten all about the scandalous part. No word of it has come to her out in the country and she hasn't set foot in town since that unfortunate tea, remember. And at present she's so busy wishing the child will be a boy, that she hasn't a thought for another thing. [The door in the rear is opened and MARK SHEFFIELD enters. He comes up to the fire to warm himself. The others watch him in silence for a moment.]

JAYSON--[Impatiently.] Well, Mark? Where's Curt?

SHEFFIELD--[Frowning.] Inside. I think he'll be with us in a minute.

[With a scornful smile.] Just now he's 'phoning to Bigelow. [The others gasp.]

JAYSON--[Furiously.] For G.o.d's sake, couldn't you stop him?

SHEFFIELD--Not without a scene. Your Aunt persuaded him to come into the house--and he rushed for the 'phone. I think he guessed we had been lying to him--

JAYSON--[After a pause.] Then he--Bigelow will be here soon?

SHEFFIELD--[Drily.] It depends on his sense of decency. As he seems lacking in that quality, I've no doubt he'll come.

JOHN--[Rising to his feet--pompously.] Then I, for one, will go. Come, Emily. Since Curt seems bound to disgrace everyone concerned, I want it thoroughly understood that we wash our hands of the whole disgraceful affair.

EMILY--[Snappishly.] Go if you want to! I won't! [Then with a sacrificing air.] I think it is our duty to stay.

JAYSON--[Exasperated.] Sit down. Wash your hands indeed! Aren't you as much concerned as any of us?

SHEFFIELD--[Sharply.] Sshh! I think I hear Curt now. [JOHN sits down abruptly. All stiffen into stony att.i.tudes. The door is opened and CURT enters. He is incredibly drawn and haggard, a tortured, bewildered expression in his eyes. His hair is dishevelled, his boots caked with mud. He stands at the door staring from one to the other of his family with a wild, contemptuous scorn and mutters.]

CURTIS--Liars! Well, he's coming now. [Then bewilderedly.] Why didn't you want him to come, eh? He's my oldest friend. I've got to talk to someone--and I can't to you. [Wildly.] What do you want here, anyway?

Why don't you go? [A scream of MARTHA's is heard through the doorway.

CURT shudders violently, slams the door to with a crash, putting his shoulders against it as if to bar out the sound inexorably--in anguish.] G.o.d, why must she go through such agony? Why? Why? [He goes to the fireplace as MARK makes way for him, flings himself exhaustedly on a chair, his shoulders bowed, his face hidden in his hands. The others stare at him pityingly. There is a long silence. Then the two women whisper together, get up and tiptoe out of the room, motioning for the others to follow them. JOHN does so. SHEFFIELD starts to go, then notices the preoccupied JAYSON who is staring moodily into the fire.]

SHEFFIELD--Sstt! [As JAYSON looks up--in a whisper.] Let's go out and leave him alone. Perhaps he'll sleep.

JAYSON--[Starting to follow SHEFFIELD, hesitates and puts a hand on his son's shoulder.] Curt. Remember I'm your father. Can't you confide in me? I'll do anything to help.

CURTIS--[Harshly.] No, Dad. Leave me alone.

JAYSON--[Piqued.] As you wish. [He starts to go.]

CURTIS--And send Big in to me as soon as he comes.

JAYSON--[Stops, appears about to object--then remarks coldly.] Very well--if you insist. [He switches off the lights. He hesitates at the door uncertainly, then opens it and goes out. There is a pause. Then CURT lifts his head and peers about the room. Seeing he is alone he springs to his feet and begins to pace back and forth, his teeth clenched, his features working convulsively. Then, as if attracted by an irresistible impulse, he goes to the closed door and puts his ear to the crack. He evidently hears his wife's moans for he starts away--in agony.]

CURTIS--Oh, Martha, Martha! Martha, darling! [He flings himself in the chair by the fireplace--hides his face in his hands and sobs bitterly.

There is a ring from somewhere in the house. Soon after there is a knock at the door. CURTIS doesn't hear at first but when it is repeated he mutters huskily.] Come in. [BIGELOW enters. CURT looks up at him.]

Close that door, Big, for G.o.d's sake!

BIGELOW--[Does so--then taking off his overcoat, hat, and throwing them on the lounge comes quickly over to CURT.] I got over as soon as I could. [As he sees CURT's face he starts and says sympathetically.] By Jove, old man, you look as though you'd been through h.e.l.l!

CURTIS--[Grimly.] I have. I am.

BIGELOW--[Slapping his back.] Buck up! [Then anxiously.] How's Martha?

CURTIS--She's in h.e.l.l, too--

BIGELOW--[Attempting consolation.] You're surely not worrying, are you?

Martha is so strong and healthy there's no doubt of her pulling through in fine shape.

CURTIS--She should never have attempted this. [After a pause.] I've a grudge against you, Big. It was you bringing your children over here that first planted this in her mind.

BIGELOW--[After a pause.] I've guessed you thought that. That's why you haven't noticed me--or them--over here so much lately. I'll confess that I felt you--[Angrily.] And the infernal gossip--I'll admit I thought that you--oh, d.a.m.n this rotten town, anyway!

CURTIS--[Impatiently.] Oh, for G.o.d's sake! [Bitterly.] I didn't want you here to discuss Bridgetown gossip.

BIGELOW--I know, old man, forgive me. [In spite of the closed door one of MARTHA's agonized moans is heard. They both shudder.]

CURTIS--[In a dead, monotonous tone.] She has been moaning like that hour after hour. I shall have those sounds in my ears until the day I die. Nothing can ever make me forget--nothing.

BIGELOW--[Trying to distract him.] Deuce take it, Curt, what's the matter with you? I never thought you'd turn morbid.

CURTIS--[Darkly.] I've changed, Big--I hardly know myself any more.

BIGELOW--Once you're back on the job again, you'll be all right. You're still determined to go on this expedition, aren't you?

CURTIS--Yes. I was supposed to join them this week in New York but I've arranged to catch up with them in China--as soon as it's possible for us to go.

BIGELOW--Us? You mean you still plan to take--

CURTIS--[Angrily aggressive.] Yes, certainly! Why not? Martha ought to be able to travel in a month or so.

BIGELOW--Yes, but--do you think it would be safe to take the child?

CURTIS--[With a bitter laugh.] Yes--I was forgetting the child, wasn't I? [Viciously.] But perhaps--[Then catching himself with a groan.] Oh, d.a.m.n all children, Big!

BIGELOW--[Astonished.] Curt!

CURTIS--[In anguish.] I can't help it--I've fought against it. But it's there--deep down in me--and I can't drive it out. I can't!

BIGELOW--[Bewildered.] What, Curt?

CURTIS--Hatred! Yes, hatred! What's the use of denying it? I must tell someone and you're the only one who might understand. [With a wild laugh.] For you--hated your wife, didn't you?

BIGELOW--[Stunned.] Good G.o.d, you don't mean you hate--Martha?

CURTIS--[Raging.] Hate Martha? How dare you, you fool! I love Martha--love her with every miserable drop of blood in me--with all my life--all my soul! She is my whole world--everything! Hate Martha! G.o.d, man, have you gone crazy to say such a mad thing? [Savagely.] No. I hate it. It!

BIGELOW--[Shocked.] Curt! Don't you know you can't talk like that--now--when--CURTIS-- [Harshly.] It has made us both suffer torments--not only now--every day, every hour, for months and months.

Why shouldn't I hate it, eh?

BIGELOW--[Staring at his friend's wild, distorted face with growing horror.] Curt! Can't you realize how horrible--