Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 213

ANNE. Yes.

HAROLD. These? These very letters?

ANNE. Yes. I had to.

HAROLD. Good G.o.d! [_He gazes at the litter of letters on the desk in stupefied silence._] But the handwriting.

ANNE. Oh, that was easy. I had the letter you wrote to Mother.

HAROLD. And you learned to imitate my handwriting?

ANNE [_politely_]. It was very good writing.

HAROLD [_in sudden apprehension_]. No one has seen these things,--have they?

ANNE. They arrived by mail.

HAROLD. You mean people saw the envelopes. Yes, that's bad enough....

But you haven't shown them to any one? [_At her silence he turns furiously upon her._] Have you?... Have you?

ANNE [_who enjoys her answer and its effect upon him_]. Only parts--never a whole letter. But it was such a pleasure to be able to talk about you to some one. My only pleasure.

HAROLD. Good heavens! You told people I wrote these letters? That we were engaged?

ANNE. I didn't mean to, Harold. Really, I didn't. But I couldn't keep it dark. There were your telegrams.

HAROLD. My telegrams?!?

[_She goes to desk and produces a bundle of dispatches._]

ANNE [_brazen in her sincerity_]. You used to wire me every time you changed your address. You were very thoughtful, Harold. But, of course, I couldn't keep those secret like your letters.

HAROLD [_standing helplessly, with the telegrams loose in his fingers_].

My telegrams! Good Lord! [_He opens one and reads_.] "Leaving Rio for fortnight of inspection in interior. Address care Senor Miguel--" _My_ telegrams!

[_He flings the packet violently on the table, thereby almost upsetting a bowl of roses which he hastens to preserve._]

ANNE. And then there were your flowers. I see you are admiring them.

[_Harold withdraws as if the flowers were charged with electricity._]

HAROLD. What flowers?

ANNE. These--these--all of them. You sent me flowers every week while you were gone.

HAROLD [_overcome_]. Good G.o.d!

[_He has now reached the apex of his amazement and becomes sardonic._]

ANNE. Yes. You were extravagant with flowers, Harold. Of course I love them, but I had to scold you about spending so much money.

HAROLD. Spending so much money? And what did I say when you scolded me?

ANNE [_taken aback only for a moment by his changed att.i.tude_]. You sent me a bigger bunch than ever before--and--wait a minute--here's the card you put in it.

[_She goes to the same fatal desk and produces a package of florists' cards._]

HAROLD. Are all those my cards too?

ANNE. Yes.

HAROLD [_laughing a bit wildly_]. I'm afraid I was a bit extravagant!

ANNE. Here's the one! You wrote: "If all that I have, and all that I am, is too little to lay before you, how can these poor flowers be much?"

HAROLD. I wrote that? Very pretty--very. I'd forgotten I had any such knack at sentiments.

ANNE. And then, right away, you sent me the ring.

HAROLD [_jumps, startled out of his sardonic pose_]. Ring! What ring?

ANNE. My engagement ring. You really were very extravagant that time, Harold.

HAROLD [_looking fearfully at her hands_]. But I don't see.... You're not wearing...?

ANNE. Not there--here, next to my heart. [_She takes out a ring which hangs on a chain inside her frock and presses it to her lips. Looking at him deeply._] I adore sapphires, Harold.

[_A new fear comes into Harold's eyes. He begins to humor her._]

HAROLD. Yes. Yes. Of course. Everyone likes sapphires, Anne. It is a beauty. Yes. [_He comes very close to her, and speaks very gently, as if to a child._] You haven't shown your ring to any one, have you, Anne?

ANNE. Only to a few people--One or two.

HAROLD. A few people! Good heavens! [_Then he controls himself, takes her hands gently in his, and continues speaking, as if to a child._] Sit down, Anne; we must talk this over a little,--very quietly, you understand, very quietly. Now to begin with, when did you first--

ANNE [_breaks away from him with a little laugh_]. No, I'm not crazy.

Don't be worried. I'm perfectly sane. I had to tell you all this to show how serious it was. Now you know. What are you going to do?

HAROLD. Do? [_He slowly straightens up as if the knowledge of her sanity had relieved him of a heavy load._] I'm going to take the next train back to New York.

ANNE. And leave me to get out of this before people all alone?

HAROLD. You got into it without my a.s.sistance, didn't you? Great Scott, you forged those letters in cold blood--

ANNE. Not in cold blood, Harold. Remember, I cared.

HAROLD. I don't believe it. [_Accusingly._] You enjoyed writing those letters!