comes up to the fire to warm himself. The others
watch him in silence for a moment.]

JAYSON--[Impatiently.] Well, Mark? Where's Curt?

SHEFFIELD--[Frowning.] Inside. I think he'll be with us in a minute.
[With a scornful smile.] Just now he's 'phoning to Bigelow. [The others
gasp.]

JAYSON--[Furiously.] For God's sake, couldn't you stop him?

SHEFFIELD--Not without a scene. Your Aunt persuaded him to come into
the house--and he rushed for the 'phone. I think he guessed we had been
lying to him--

JAYSON--[After a pause.] Then he--Bigelow will be here soon?

SHEFFIELD--[Drily.] It depends on his sense of decency. As he seems
lacking in that quality, I've no doubt he'll come.

JOHN--[Rising to his feet--pompously.] Then I, for one, will go. Come,
Emily. Since Curt seems bound to disgrace everyone concerned, I want it
thoroughly understood that we wash our hands of the whole disgraceful
affair.

EMILY--[Snappishly.] Go if you want to! I won't! [Then with a
sacrificing air.] I think it is our duty to stay.

JAYSON--[Exasperated.] Sit down. Wash your hands indeed! Aren't you as
much concerned as any of us?

SHEFFIELD--[Sharply.] Sshh! I think I hear Curt now. [JOHN sits down
abruptly. All stiffen into stony attitudes. The door is opened and CURT
enters. He is incredibly drawn and haggard, a tortured, bewildered
expression in his eyes. His hair is dishevelled, his boots caked with
mud. He stands at the door staring from one to the other of his family
with a wild, contemptuous scorn and mutters.]

CURTIS--Liars! Well, he's coming now. [Then bewilderedly.] Why didn't
you want him to come, eh? He's my oldest friend. I've got to talk to
someone--and I can't to you. [Wildly.] What do you want here, anyway?
Why don't you go? [A scream of MARTHA's is heard through the doorway.
CURT shudders violently, slams the door to with a crash, putting his
shoulders against it as if to bar out the sound inexorably--in
anguish.] God, why must she go through such agony? Why? Why? [He goes
to the fireplace as MARK makes way for him, flings himself exhaustedly
on a chair, his shoulders bowed, his face hidden in his hands. The
others stare at him pityingly. There is a long silence. Then the two
women whisper together, get up and tiptoe out of the room, motioning
for the others to follow them. JOHN does so. SHEFFIELD starts to go,
then notices the preoccupied JAYSON who is staring moodily into the
fire.]

SHEFFIELD--Sstt! [As JAYSON