SCENE--Several months later. A terrace on the Evans' estate on Long Island. In the rear, the terrace overlooks a small harbor with the ocean beyond. On the right is a side entrance of the pretentious villa. On the left is a hedge with an arched gateway leading to a garden. The terrace is paved with rough stone. There is a stone bench at center, a recliner at right, a wicker table and armchair at left.
It is late afternoon of a day in early fall. Gordon Evans is sitting on the stone bench, his chin propped on his hands, Madeline standing behind him, her arm about his shoulders. Gordon is over six feet tall with the figure of a trained athlete. His sun-bronzed face is extremely handsome after the fashion of the magazine cover American collegian. It is a strong face but of a strength wholly material in quality. He has been too thoroughly trained to progress along a certain groove to success ever to question it or be dissatisfied with its rewards. At the same time, although entirely an unimaginative code-bound gentleman of his groove, he is boyish and likable, of an even, modest, sporting disposition. His expression is boyishly forlorn, but he is making a manly effort to conceal his grief.
Madeline is much the same as in the previous Act except that there is now a distinct maternal older feeling in her attitude toward Gordon as she endeavors to console him.
MADELINE--(tenderly, smoothing his hair) There, dear! I know how horribly hard it is for you. I loved him, too. He was so wonderful and sweet to me.
GORDON--(his voice trembling) I didn't really realize he was gone--until out at the cemetery--(His voice breaks.)
MADELINE--(kissing his hair) Darling! Please don't!
GORDON--(rebelliously) Damn it, I don't see why he had to die! (with a groan) It was that constant grind at the office! I ought to have insisted on his taking better care of himself. But I wasn't home enough, that's the trouble. I couldn't watch him. (then bitterly) But I can't see why Mother didn't!
MADELINE--(reprovingly but showing she shares his feeling) Now! You mustn't start feeling bitter toward her.
GORDON--(contritely) I know I shouldn't. (but returning to his bitter tone) But I can't help remembering how unreasonably she's acted about our engagement.
MADELINE--Not since your father was taken sick, she hasn't, dear. She's been wonderfully nice.
GORDON--(in the same tone) Nice? Indifferent, you mean! She doesn't seem to care a damn one way or the other any more!
MADELINE--You could hardly expect her to think of anyone but your father. She's been with him every minute. I never saw such devotion. (thinking)
Will Gordon ever get old and sick like that? … oh, I hope we'll both die before! … but I'd nurse him just as she did his father … I'll always love him! …
GORDON--(consoled--proudly) Yes, she sure was wonderful to him, all right! (then coming back to his old tone) But--this may sound rotten of me--I always had a queer feeling she was doing it as a duty. And when he died, I felt her grief was--not from love for him--at least, only the love of a friend, not a wife's love. (as if under some urgent compulsion from within) I've never told you, but I've always felt, ever since I was a little kid, that she didn't really love Dad. She liked him and respected him. She was a wonderful wife. But I'm sure she didn't love him. (blurting it out as if he couldn't help it) I'll tell you, Madeline! I've always felt she cared a lot for--Darrell. (hastily) Of course, I might be wrong. (then bursting out) No, I'm not wrong! I've felt it too strongly, ever since I was a kid. And then when I was eleven--something happened. I've been sure of it since then.
MADELINE--(thinking in amazement, but not without a queer satisfaction)
Does he mean that she was unfaithful to his father? … no, he'd never believe that … but what else could he mean? …
(wonderingly) Gordon! Do you mean you've been sure that your mother was--
GORDON--(outraged by something in her tone--jumping to his feet and flinging her hand off--roughly) Was what? What do you mean, Madeline?
MADELINE--(frightened--placatingly puts her arms around him) I didn't mean anything, dear. I simply thought you meant--
GORDON--(still indignant) All I meant was that she must have fallen in love with Darrell long after she was married--and then she sent him away for Dad's sake--and mine, too, I suppose. He kept coming back every couple of years. He didn't have guts enough to stay away for good! Oh, I suppose I'm unfair. I suppose it was damned hard on him. He fought it down, too, on account of his friendship for Dad. (then with a bitter laugh) I suppose they'll be getting married now! And I'll have to wish them good luck. Dad would want me to. He was game. (with a bitter gloomy air) Life is damn queer, that's all I've got to say!
MADELINE--(thinking with a sort of tender, loving scorn for his boyish naïveté)