what?
HILDEGARDE. Ratiocination. Reasoning. On either side.
TRANTO. Oh no!
HILDEGARDE. It's simply a question of mutual attitude, isn't it? Now, if
only--. But there! What's the use? Parents are like that, poor dears!
They have forgotten! (_With emphasis_.) They have forgotten--what makes
life worth living.
TRANTO. You mean, for instance, your mother never sits on your father's
knee.
HILDEGARDE (_bravely, after hesitation_). Yes! Crudely--that's what I do
mean.
TRANTO. Miss Hildegarde, you are the most marvellous girl I ever met.
You are, really! You seem to combine all qualities. It's amazing to me.
I'm more and more astounded. Every time I come here there's a fresh
revelation. Now you mention romance. I'm glad you mentioned it first.
But I _saw_ it first. I saw it in your eyes the first time I ever met
you. Yes! Miss Hilda, do you see it in mine? Look. Look closely.
(_Approaching her_.) Because it's there. I must tell you. I can't wait
any longer. (_Feeling for her hand, vainly_.)
HILDEGARDE (_drawing back_). Mr. Tranto, is this the way you treat
father?
_Enter_ Mr. Culver, _back_.
CULVER (_quickly_). Hilda, go to your mother. She's upstairs.
HILDEGARDE. What am I to do?
CULVER. I don't know. (_With meaning_.) Think what the sagacious Sampson
Straight would do, and do that.
(Hildegarde _gives a sharp look first at_ Culver, _and then at_ Tranto,
_and exit, back_.)
CULVER (_turning to_ Tranto). My dear fellow, the war is practically
over.
TRANTO. Good heavens! There was nothing on the tape when I left the
Club.
CULVER. Oh! I don't mean your war. I mean the twenty-two years' war.
TRANTO. The twenty-two years' war?
CULVER. My married life. Over! Finished! Napoo!
TRANTO. Do you know what you're saying?
CULVER. Look here, Tranto. You and I don't belong to the same
generation. In fact, if I'd started early enough I might have been your
father. But we got so damned intimate last night, and I'm in such a
damned hole, and you're so damned wise, that I feel I must talk to you.
Not that it'll be any use.
TRANTO. But what's the matter?
CULVER. The matter is--keeping a woman in the house.
TRANTO. Mr. Culver! You don't mean--
CULVER. I mean my wife--of course. I've just had the most ghastly rumpus
with my wife. It was divided into two acts. The first took place here,
the second in the boudoir (_indicating boudoir_). The second act was the
shortest but the worst.
TRANTO. But wh
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