[Checking herself—remorsefully]
I must stop such thoughts . . . I don’t mean it . . . poor Sam! . . . trying so hard . . . loving me so much . . . I give so little in return . . . he feels I’m always watching him with scorn . . . I can’t tell him it’s with pity . . . how can I help watching him? . . . help worrying over his worry because of what it might lead to . . . after what his mother . . . how horrible life is! . . . he’s worried now . . . he doesn’t sleep . . . I hear him tossing about . . . I must sleep with him again soon . . . he’s only home two nights a week . . . it isn’t fair of me . . . I must try . . . I must! . . . he suspects my revulsion . . . it’s hurting him. . . oh, poor dead baby I dared not bear, how I might have loved your father for your sake! . . .
Evans
[Suddenly feeling her presence, jerks himself to his feet—with a diffident guilty air which is noticeable about him now whenever he is in her presence]
Hello, dear. I thought you were lying down.
[Guiltily]
Did the noise of my typing bother you? I’m terribly sorry!
Nina
[Irritated in spite of herself]
Why is he always cringing? . . .
[She comes forward to the chair at center and sits down—forcing a smile]
But there’s nothing to be terribly sorry about!
[As he stands awkward and confused, like a schoolboy who has been called on to recite and cannot and is being “bawled out” before the class, she forces a playful tone]
Goodness, Sam, how tragic you can get about nothing at all!
