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she looks easily a year older.

Her mother comes in, muffled in an opera-cloak. She takes in Rosalind with a nervous glance.

Mrs. Connage

Who is coming tonight?

Rosalind fails to hear her, at least takes no notice.

Mrs. Connage

Alec is coming up to take me to this Barrie play, Et Tu, Brutus. She perceives that she is talking to herself. Rosalind! I asked you who is coming tonight?

Rosalind

Starting. Oh⁠—what⁠—oh⁠—Amory⁠—

Mrs. Connage

Sarcastically. You have so many admirers lately that I couldn’t imagine which one. (Rosalind doesn’t answer.) Dawson Ryder is more patient than I thought he’d be. You haven’t given him an evening this week.

Rosalind

With a very weary expression that is quite new to her face. Mother⁠—please⁠—

Mrs. Connage

Oh, I won’t interfere. You’ve already wasted over two months on a theoretical genius who hasn’t a penny to his name, but go ahead, waste your life on him. I won’t interfere.

Rosalind

As if repeating a tiresome lesson. You know he has a little income⁠—and you know he’s earning thirty-five dollars a week in advertising⁠—

Mrs. Connage

And it wouldn’t buy your clothes. She pauses but Rosalind makes no reply. I have your best interests at heart when I tell you not to take a step you’ll spend your days regretting. It’s not as if your father could help you. Things have been hard for him lately and he’s an old man. You’d be dependent absolutely on a dreamer, a nice, wellborn boy, but a dreamer⁠—merely clever. She implies that this quality in itself is rather vicious.

Rosalind

For heaven’s sake, mother⁠—

A maid appears, announces Mr. Blaine who follows immediately. Amory’s friends have been telling him for ten days that he “looks like the wrath of God,” and he does. As a matter of fact he has not been able to eat a mouthful in the last thirty-six hours.

Amory

Good evening, Mrs. Connage.

Mrs. Connage

Not unkindly. Good evening, Amory.

Amory and Rosalind exchange glances⁠—and Alec comes in. Alec’s attitude throughout has been neutral. He believes in his heart that the marriage would make Amory mediocre and Rosalind miserable, but he feels a great sympathy for both of them.

Alec

Hi, Amory!

Amory

Hi, Alec! Tom said he’d meet you at the theatre.

Alec

Yeah, just saw him. How’s the advertising today? Write some brilliant copy?

Amory

Oh, it’s about the same. I got a raise⁠—Everyone looks at him rather eagerly.⁠—of two dollars a week. General collapse.

Mrs. Connage

Come, Alec, I hear the car.

A good night, rather chilly in sections. After Mrs. Connage and Alec go out there is a pause. Rosalind still stares moodily at the fireplace. Amory goes to her and puts his arm around her.

Amory

Darling girl.

They kiss. Another pause and then she seizes his hand, covers it with kisses and holds it to her breast.

Rosalind

Sadly. I love your hands, more than anything. I see them often when you’re away from me⁠—so tired; I know every line of them. Dear hands!

Their eyes meet for a second and then she begins to cry⁠—a tearless sobbing.

Amory

Rosalind!

Rosalind

Oh, we’re so darned pitiful!

Amory

Rosalind!

Rosalind

Oh, I want to die!

Amory

Rosalind, another night of this and I’ll go to pieces. You’ve been this way four days now. You’ve got to be more encouraging or I can’t work or eat or sleep. He looks around helplessly as if searching for new words to clothe an old, shopworn phrase. We’ll have to make a start. I like having to make a start together. His forced hopefulness fades as he sees her unresponsive. What’s the matter? He gets up suddenly and starts to pace the floor. It’s Dawson Ryder, that’s what it is. He’s been working on your nerves. You’ve been with him every afternoon for a week. People come and tell me they’ve seen you together, and I have to smile and nod and pretend it hasn’t the slightest significance for me. And you won’t tell me anything as it develops.

Rosalind

Amory, if you don’t sit down I’ll scream.

Amory

Sitting down suddenly beside her. Oh, Lord.

Rosalind

Taking his hand gently. You know I love you, don’t you?

Amory

Yes.

Rosalind

You know I’ll always love you⁠—

Amory

Don’t talk that way; you frighten me. It sounds as if we weren’t going to have each other. She cries a little and rising from the couch goes to the armchair. I’ve felt all afternoon that things were worse. I nearly went wild down at the office⁠—couldn’t write a line. Tell me everything.

Rosalind

There’s nothing to tell, I say. I’m just nervous.

Amory

Rosalind, you’re playing with the idea of marrying Dawson Ryder.

Rosalind

After a pause. He’s been asking me to all day.

Amory

Well, he’s got his nerve!

Rosalind

After another pause. I like him.

Amory

Don’t say that. It hurts me.

Rosalind

Don’t be a silly idiot. You know you’re the only man I’ve ever loved, ever will love.

Amory

Quickly. Rosalind, let’s get married⁠—next week.

Rosalind

We can’t.

Amory

Why not?

Rosalind

Oh, we can’t. I’d be your squaw⁠—in some horrible place.

Amory

We’ll have two hundred and seventy-five dollars a month all told.

Rosalind

Darling, I don’t even do my own hair, usually.

Amory

I’ll do it for you.

Rosalind

Between a laugh and a sob. Thanks.

Amory

Rosalind, you can’t be thinking of marrying someone else. Tell me! You leave me in the dark. I can help you fight it out if you’ll only tell me.

Rosalind

It’s just⁠—us. We’re pitiful, that’s all. The very qualities I love you for are the ones that will always make you a failure.

Amory

Grimly. Go on.

Rosalind

Oh⁠—it is Dawson Ryder. He’s so reliable, I almost feel that he’d be a⁠—a background.

Amory

You don’t love him.

Rosalind

I know, but I respect him, and he’s a good man and a strong one.

Amory

Grudgingly. Yes⁠—he’s that.

Rosalind

Well⁠—here’s one little thing. There was a little poor boy we met in Rye Tuesday afternoon⁠—and, oh, Dawson took him on his lap

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