Plays
what we mean by needing each other. All join in the chorus, 'This is it!
This is it! This is it!' And anyone who won't join is to be--visited by
relatives, (_regarding_ ADELAIDE _with curiosity_) Do you really think
that anything is going on in you?
ADELAIDE: (_stiffly_) I am not one to hold myself up as a perfect
example of what the human race may be.
CLAIRE: (_brightly_) Well, that's good.
HARRY: Claire!
CLAIRE: Humility's a _real_ thing--not just a fine name for laziness.
HARRY: Well, Lord A'mighty, you can't call Adelaide lazy.
CLAIRE: She stays in one place because she hasn't the energy to go
anywhere else.
ADELAIDE: (_as if the last word in absurdity has been said) I_ haven't
energy?
CLAIRE: (_mildly_) You haven't any energy at all, Adelaide. That's why
you keep so busy.
ADELAIDE: _Well_--Claire's nerves are in a worse state than I had
realized.
CLAIRE: So perhaps we'd better look at Blake's drawings, (_takes up the
book_)
ADELAIDE: It would be all right for me to look at Blake's drawings.
You'd better look at the Sistine Madonna, (_affectionately, after she
has watched_ CLAIRE_'s face a moment_) What is it, Claire? Why do you
shut yourself out from us?
CLAIRE: I told you. Because I do not want to be shut in with you.
ADELAIDE: All of this is not very pleasant for Harry.
HARRY: I want Claire to be gay.
CLAIRE: Funny--you should want that, (_speaks unwillingly, a curious,
wistful unwillingness_) Did you ever say a preposterous thing, then go
trailing after the thing you've said and find it wasn't so preposterous?
Here is the circle we are in._describes a big circle_) Being gay. It
shoots little darts through the circle, and a minute later--gaiety all
gone, and you looking through that little hole the gaiety left.
ADELAIDE: (_going to her, as she is still looking through that little
hole_) Claire, dear, I wish I could make you feel how much I care for
you. (_simply, with real feeling_) You can call me all the names you
like--dull, commonplace, lazy--that is a new idea, I confess, but the
rest of our family's gone now, and the love that used to be there
between us all--the only place for it now is between you and me. You
were so much loved, Claire. You oughtn't to try and get away from a
world in which you are so much loved, (_to_ HARRY) Mother--father--all
of us, always loved Claire best. We always loved Claire's queer gaiety.
Now you've got to hand it to us for that, as the children say.
CLAIRE: (_moved, but eyes shining with a queer bright loneliness_) But
never one of you--once--looked with me through the little pricks the
gaiety made--never one of you--once, looked with me at the queer light
that came in through the pricks.
ADELAIDE: And can't you see, dear, that it's better for us we didn't?
And that it would be better for you now if you would just resolutely
look somewhere else? You must see yourself that you haven't the poise of
people who are held--well, within the circle, if you choose to put it
that way. There's something about being in that main body, having one's
roots in the big common experiences, gives a calm which you have missed.
That's _why_ I want you to take Elizabeth, forget yourself, and--
CLAIRE: I do want calm. But mine would have to be a calm I--worked my
way to. A calm all prepared for me--would stink.
ADELAIDE: (_less sympathetically_) I know you have to be yourself,
Claire. But I don't admit you have a right to hurt other people.
HARRY: I think Claire and I had better take a nice long trip.
ADELAIDE: Now why don't you?
CLAIRE: I am taking a trip.
ADELAIDE: Well, Harry isn't, and he'd like to go and wants you to go
with him. Go to Paris and get yourself some awfully good-looking
clothes--and have one grand fling at the gay world. You really love
that, Claire, and you've been awfully dull lately. I think that's the
whole trouble.
HARRY: I think so too.
ADELAIDE: This sober business of growing plants--
CLAIRE: Not sober--it's mad.
ADELAIDE: All the more reason for quitting it.
CLAIRE: But madness that is the only chance for sanity.
ADELAIDE: Come, come, now--let's not juggle words.
CLAIRE: (_springing up_) How dare you say that to me, Adelaide. You who
are such a liar and thief and whore with words!
ADELAIDE: (_facing her, furious_) How _dare_ you--
HARRY: Of course not, Claire. You have the most preposterous way of
using words.
CLAIRE: I respect words.
ADELAIDE: Well, you'll please respect me enough not to dare use certain
words to me!
CLAIRE: Yes, I do dare. I'm tired of what you do--you and all of you.
Life--experience--values--calm--sensitive words which raise their heads
as indications. And you _pull them up_--to decorate your stagnant little
minds--and think that makes you--And because you have pulled that word
from the life that grew it you won't let one who's honest, and aware,
and troubled, try to reach through to--to what she doesn't know is
there, (_she is moved, excited, as if a cruel thing has been done_) Why
did you come here?
ADELAIDE: To try and help you. But I begin to fear I can't do it. It's
pretty egotistical to claim that what so many people are, is wrong.
(_CLAIRE, after looking intently at ADELAIDE, slowly, smiling a little,
describes a circle. With deftly used hands makes a quick vicious break
in the circle which is there in the air._)
HARRY: (_going to her, taking her hands_) It's getting close to
dinner-time. You were thinking of something else, Claire, when I told
you Charlie Emmons was coming to dinner to-night, (_answering her look_)
Sure--he is a neurologist, and I want him to see you. I'm perfectly
honest with you--cards all on the table, you know that. I'm hoping if
you like him--and he's the best scout in the world, that he can help
you. (_talking hurriedly against the stillness which follows her look
from him to ADELAIDE, where she sees between them an 'understanding'
about her_) Sure you need help, Claire. Your nerves are a little on the
blink--from all you've been doing. No use making a mystery of it--or a
tragedy. Emmons is a cracker-jack, and naturally I want you to get a
move on yourself and be happy again.
CLAIRE: (_who has gone over to the window_) And this neurologist can
make me happy?
HARRY: Can make you well--and then you'll be happy.
ADELAIDE: (_in the voice of now fixing it all up_) And I had just an
idea about Elizabeth. Instead of working with mere plants, why not think
of Elizabeth as a plant and--
(CLAIRE, _who has been looking out of the window, now throws open one of
the panes that swings out--or seems to, and calls down in great
excitement._)
CLAIRE: Tom! _Tom!_ Quick! Up here! I'm in trouble!
HARRY: (_going to the window_) That's a rotten thing to do, Claire!
You've frightened him.
CLAIRE: Yes, how fast he can run. He was deep in thought and I stabbed
right through.
HARRY: Well, he'll be none too pleased when he gets up here and finds
there was no reason for the stabbing!
(_They wait for his footsteps,_ HARRY _annoyed,_ ADELAIDE _offended, but
stealing worried looks at_ CLAIRE, _who is looking fixedly at the place
in the floor where_ TOM _will appear.--Running footsteps._)
TOM: (_his voice getting there before he does_) Yes,
Claire--yes--yes--(_as his head appears_) What is it?
CLAIRE: (_at once presenting him and answering his question_) My sister.
TOM: (_gasping_) Oh,--why--is that all? I mean--how do you do? Pardon, I
(_panting_) came up--rather hurriedly.
HARRY: If you want to slap Claire, Tom, I for one have no objection.
CLAIRE: Adelaide has the most interesting idea, Tom. She proposes that I
take Elizabeth and roll her in the gutter. Just let her lie there until
she breaks up into--
ADELAIDE: _Claire!_ I don't see how--even in fun--pretty vulgar fun--you
can speak in those terms of a pure young girl. I'm beginning to think I
had better take Elizabeth.
CLAIRE: Oh, I've thought that all along.
ADELAIDE: And I'm also beginning to suspect that--oddity may be just a
way of shifting responsibility.
CLAIRE: (_cordially interested in this possibility_) Now you know--that
might be.
ADELAIDE: A mother who does not love her own child! You are an unnatural
woman, Claire.
CLAIRE: Well, at least it saves me from being a natural one.
ADELAIDE: Oh--I know, you think you have a great deal! But let me tell
you, you've missed a great deal! You've never known the faintest
stirring of a mother's love.
CLAIRE: That's not true.
HARRY: No. Claire loved our boy.
CLAIRE: I'm glad he didn't live.
HARRY: (_low_) Claire!
CLAIRE: I loved him. Why should I want him to live?
HARRY: Come, dear, I'm sorry I spoke of him--when you're not feeling
well.
CLAIRE: I'm feeling all right. _Just_ because I'm seeing something, it
doesn't mean I'm sick.
HARRY: Well, let's go down now. About dinner-time. I shouldn't wonder if
Emmons were here. (_as ADELAIDE is starting down stairs_) Coming,
Claire?
CLAIRE: No.
HARRY: But it's time to go down for dinner.
CLAIRE: I'm not hungry.
HARRY: But we have a guest. Two guests--Adelaide's staying too.
CLAIRE: Then you're not alone.
HARRY: But I invited Dr Emmons to meet you.
CLAIRE: (_her smile flashing_) Tell him I am violent to-night.
HARRY: Dearest--how can you joke about such things!
CLAIRE: So you do think they're serious?
HARRY: (_irritated_) No, I do not! But I want you to come down for
dinner!
ADELAIDE: Come, come, Claire; you know quite well this is not the sort
of thing one does.
CLAIRE: Why go on saying one doesn't, when you are seeing one does (_to_
TOM) Will you stay with me a while? I want to purify the tower.
(ADELAIDE _begins to disappear_)
HARRY: Fine time to choose for a _tête-à-tête. (as he is leaving_) I'd
think more of you, Edgeworthy, if you refused to humour Claire in her
ill-breeding.
ADELAIDE: (_her severe voice coming from below_) It is not what she was
taught.
CLAIRE: No, it's not what I was taught, (_laughing rather timidly_) And
perhaps you'd rather have your dinner?
TOM: No.
CLAIRE: We'll get something later. I want to talk to you. (_but she does
not--laughs_) Absurd that I should feel bashful with you. Why am I so
awkward with words when I go to talk to you?
TOM: The words know they're not needed.
CLAIRE: No, they're not needed. There's something underneath--an open
way--down below the way that words can go. (_rather desperately_) It is
there, isn't it?
TOM: Oh, yes, it is there.
CLAIRE: Then why do we never--go it?
TOM: If we went it, it would not be there.
CLAIRE: Is that true? How terrible, if that is true.
TOM: Not terrible, wonderful--that it should--of itself--be there.
CLAIRE: (_with the simplicity that can say anything_) I want to go it,
Tom, I'm lonely up on top here. Is it that I have more faith than you,
or is it only that I'm greedier? You see, you don't know (_her reckless
laugh_) what you're missing. You don't know how I could love you.
TOM: Don't, Claire; that isn't--how it is--between you and me.
CLAIRE: But why can't it be--every way--between you and me?
TOM: Because we'd lose--the open way. (_the quality of his denial shows
how strong is his feeling for her_) With anyone else--not with you.
CLAIRE: But you are the only one I want. The only one--all of me wants.
TOM: I know; but that's the way it is.
CLAIRE: You're cruel.
TOM: Oh, Claire, I'm trying so hard to--save it for us. Isn't it our
beauty and our safeguard that underneath our separate lives, no matter
where we may be, with what other, there is this open way between us?
That's so much more than anything we could bring to being.
CLAIRE: Perhaps. But--it's different with me. I'm not--all spirit.
TOM: (_his hand on her_) Dear!