[Then suddenly jeering at himself]
For God’s sake, stop acting! . . . it isn’t the Professor! . . . dear old Charlie is crying because she didn’t weep on his shoulder . . . as he had hoped! . . .
[He laughs harshly—then suddenly sees a man outside the doorway and stares—then calls sharply]
Who’s that?
Evans
[His voice embarrassed and hesitating comes from the hall]
It’s all right.
[He appears in the doorway, grinning bashfully]
It’s me—I, I mean—Miss Leeds told me to come in here.
[He stretches out his hand awkwardly]
Guess you don’t remember me, Mr. Marsden. Miss Leeds introduced us one day at the hospital. You were leaving just as I came in. Evans is my name.
Marsden
[Who has been regarding him with waning resentment, forces a cordial smile and shakes hands]
Oh, yes. At first I couldn’t place you.
Evans
[Awkwardly]
I sort of feel I’m butting in.
Marsden
[Beginning to be taken by his likable boyish quality]
Not at all. Sit down.
[He sits in the rocker at center as Evans goes to the bench at right]
