The Easiest Way Part 16

LAURA. [_Rises hurriedly; crosses right_.] Please, please, don't speak of it.

WILL. I'm sorry, but I've got to. I told [_Rises, and crosses to left_.] Madison [LAURA _turns her head_.]--pardon me, but I must do this--that if this time ever came I'd have you write him the truth.

Before we go any further I'd like you to do that now.

LAURA. Say good-bye? [_Turns to_ WILL.

WILL. Just that.

LAURA. I wouldn't know how to begin. It will hurt him awfully deeply.

WILL. It'll be worse if you don't. He'll like you for telling him. It would be honest, and that is what he expects.

LAURA. Must I--now?

WILL. I think you should.

LAURA. [_Goes to table and sits down_.] How shall I begin, Will?

WILL. [_Standing back of table_.] You mean you don't know what to say?

LAURA. Yes.

WILL. Then I'll dictate.

LAURA. I'll do just as you say. You're the one to tell me now.

WILL. Address it the way you want to. [_She complies_.] I'm going to be pretty brutal. In the long run I think that is best, don't you?

LAURA. It's up to you.

WILL. Ready?

LAURA. Begin.

WILL. [_Dictating_.] "All I have to say can be expressed in one word, 'good-bye.' I shall not tell you where I've gone, but remind you of what Brockton told you the last time he saw you. He is here now [_Pause_.], dictating this letter. What I am doing is voluntary--my own suggestion. Don't grieve. Be happy and successful. I do not love you"--

[_She puts pen down; looks at him_.

LAURA. Will--please.

WILL. It has got to go just that way--"I do not love you." Sign it "Laura." [_She does it_.] Fold it, put it in an envelope--seal it--address it. Now shall I mail it?

LAURA. No. If you don't mind I'd sooner. It's a sort of a last--last message.

WILL. [_Crosses to armchair; gets coat, puts it on_.] All right.

You're a little upset now, and I'm going. We are all to dine at Martin's to-night at seven-thirty. There'll be a party. Of course you'll come. [_Gets hat and cane_.

LAURA. I don't think I can. You see--

WILL. I know. I guess there's enough there [_Indicating money_.] for your immediate needs. Later you can straighten things up. Shall I send the car?

LAURA. Yes, please.

WILL. Good. It will be the first happy evening I've had in a long, long time. You'll be ready?

[_Approaches and bends over her as if to caress her_.

LAURA. [_Shrinking away_.] Please don't. Remember we don't dine until seven-thirty.

WILL. All right. [_Exit_.

_For a moment_ LAURA _sits silent, and then angrily rises, crosses up to dresser, gets alcohol lamp, crosses to table with lamp, lights same, and starts back to dresser. Knock at door_.

LAURA. Come in. [ANNIE _enters, and stops_.] That you, Annie?

ANNIE. Ya.s.sum.

LAURA. Mrs. Farley wants her rent. There is some money. [_Tosses money on to table_.] Take it to her.

ANNIE _goes to the table, examines the roll of bills and is palpably surprised_.

ANNIE. Dey ain't nothin' heah, Miss Laura, but five great big one hunderd dollah bills.

LAURA. Take two. And look in that upper drawer. You'll find some p.a.w.n tickets there. [ANNIE _complies_.

ANNIE. Ya.s.sum. [_Aside_.] Dat's real money--dem's yellow-backs sure.

LAURA. Take the two top ones and go get my lace gown and one of the hats. The ticket is for a hundred and ten dollars. Keep ten for yourself, and hurry.

ANNIE. [_Aside_.] Ten for myself--I never see so much money. [_To_ LAURA, _her astonishment nearly overcoming her_.] Ya.s.sum, Miss Laura, ya.s.sum. [_She goes toward door, and then turns to_ LAURA.] Ah'm so mighty glad yo' out all yo' trouble, Miss Laura. I says to Mis' Farley now--

LAURA. [_Snapping her off_.] Don't--don't. Go do as I tell you and mind your business. [ANNIE _turns sullenly and walks toward the door.

At that moment_ LAURA _sees the letter, which she has thrown on the table_.] Wait a minute. I want you to mail a letter. [_By this time her hair is half down, hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her waist is open at the throat, collar off, and she has the appearance of a woman's untidiness when she is at that particular stage of her toilet.

Hands letter to_ ANNIE, _but s.n.a.t.c.hes it away as_ ANNIE _turns to go. She glances at the letter long and wistfully, and her nerve fails her_.] Never mind.

ANNIE _exits. Slowly_ LAURA _puts the letter over the flame of the alcohol lamp and it ignites. As it burns she holds it in her fingers, and when half consumed throws it into waste-jar, sits on side of bed watching letter burn, then lies down across bed on her elbows, her chin in her hands, facing audience. As the last flicker is seen the curtain slowly descends_.

CURTAIN.

ACT III.

SCENE. _Two months have elapsed. The scene is at_ BROCKTON'S _apartment in a hotel such as is not over particular concerning the relations of its tenants. There are a number of these hotels throughout the theatre district of New York, and, as a rule, one will find them usually of the same type. The room in which this scene is placed is that of the general living-room in one of the handsomest apartments in the building. The prevailing colour is green, and there is nothing particularly gaudy about the general furnishings. They are in good taste, but without the variety of arrangement and ornamentation which would naturally obtain in a room occupied by people a bit more particular concerning their surroundings. Down stage is a table about three feet square which can be used not only as a general centre-table, but also for service while the occupants are eating. There is a breakfast service on this table, and also a tray and stand behind it. There is a chair at either side of the table, and at right coming up stage, the room turns at a sharp angle of thirty-five degrees, and this s.p.a.ce is largely taken up by a large doorway. This is equipped with sliding-doors and hung with green portieres, which are handsome and in harmony with the general scheme of the furnishings of the room. This entrance is to the sleeping-room of the apartments_.

_At the back of the stage is a large window or alcove. The window is on the ordinary plan, and the view through it shows the back of another building of New York, presumably a hotel of about the same character. Green portieres are also hung on the windows. Down left is the entrance to the corridor of the hotel, and this must be so arranged that it works with a latch-key and opens upon a small hallway, which separates the apartment from the main hallway. This is necessary as the action calls for the slamming of a door, and later the opening of the direct and intimate door of the apartment with a latch-key. Left of centre is a sofa, and there is a general arrangement of chairs without over-crowding the apartment. Just below, where the right portiere is hung, is a long, full-length mirror, such as women dress by. Against wall is a lady's fancy dresser._