And Gordon is—well—sort of my stepson, isn’t he? I really want him to be happy.
[Then smiling good-naturedly]
All the same, I can’t help hoping he’ll be beaten in this race. As an oarsman he recalls his father, Gordon Shaw, to me.
[He turns away and raises his glasses, going back to the rail. Nina slumps down in her chair again]
Evans
Damn! They all look even from here! Can you tell which is which, Madeline?
Madeline
No—not yet—oh, dear, this is awful! Gordon!
Nina
[Looking about her in the air—with a dazed question]
Gordon?
Marsden
[Thinking]
Damn that Darrell! . . . if he hadn’t interfered Nina would have told . . . something of infinite importance, I know! . . .
[He comes and again sits on the deck by her chair and takes her hand]
Because what, Nina—my dear little Nina Cara Nina—because what? Let me help you!
Nina
[Staring before her as if she were in a trance—simply, like a young girl]
