Marsden
Dear damned Charlie! . . . She loves to torture! . . .
[Then forcing a smile—soothingly]
Yes, Nina Cara Nina! Right here!
Nina
[Forcing a smile]
You look frightened, Charlie. Do I seem queer? It’s because I’ve suddenly seen the lies in the sounds called words. You know—grief, sorrow, love, father—those sounds our lips make and our hands write. You ought to know what I mean. You work with them. Have you written another novel lately? But, stop to think, you’re just the one who couldn’t know what I mean. With you the lies have become the only truthful things. And I suppose that’s the logical conclusion to the whole evasive mess, isn’t it? Do you understand me, Charlie? Say lie—
[She says it, drawing it out]
L-i-i-e! Now say life. L-i-i-f-e! You see! Life is just a long drawn out lie with a sniffling sigh at the end!
[She laughs]
Marsden
[In strange agony]
She’s hard! . . . like a whore! . . . tearing your heart with dirty finger nails! . . . my Nina! . . . cruel bitch! . . . some day I won’t bear it! . . . I’ll scream out the truth about every woman! . . . no kinder at heart than dollar tarts! . . .
[Then in a passion of remorse]
Forgive me, Mother! . . . I didn’t mean all! . . .
