Nina
[After staring at him for a moment—walking away from him—thinking with a dull fatalism]
I’ve lost him . . . he’ll never tell Sam now . . . is what he said right? . . . is Gordon Gordon’s? . . . oh, I hope so! . . . oh, dear, dead Gordon, help me to get back your son! . . . I must find some way. . . .
[She sits down again]
Marsden
[Who has been staring at them with a foolish grin]
Hello, you two! Why do you look so guilty? You don’t love each other any more! It’s all nonsense! I don’t feel the slightest twinge of jealousy. That’s proof enough, isn’t it?
[Then blandly apologetic]
Pardon me if I sound a bit pipped—a good bit! Sam said ten and then took the bottle away when I’d had only five! But it’s enough! I’ve forgotten sorrow! There’s nothing in life worth grieving about, I assure you, Nina! And I’ve gotten interested in this race now.
[He sings raucously]
“Oh we’ll row, row, row, right down the river! And we’ll row, row, row—” Remember that old tune—when you were a little girl, Nina? Oh, I’m forgetting Sam said to tell you Gordon was on even terms with the leaders! A gallant spurt did it! Nip and tuck now! I don’t care who wins—as long as it isn’t Gordon! I don’t like him since he’s grown up! He thinks I’m an old woman!
[Sings]
“Row, row, row.” The field against Gordon!
