as I love you now, and I shall be more real to you than your hands and
your eyes.

THE WOMAN

_Bone of one bone, and flesh of one flesh_....

THE VOICE

Spirit of one spirit! The flesh we have put away.

THE WOMAN

That, too, Paul. Oh the glory of it! So be my happiness that I shall not
wish it changed, even before the Throne!

THE VOICE

I have given you happiness?

THE WOMAN

Perfect happiness, Paul. I am happy, happier than I ever was before. But
before I go home from here for the last time, turn on the light, Paul,
that we may be to each other always as the wonder of this moment. For the
last time, Paul. Paul?... Paul? Where are you? Why don't you answer?...
_Paul!_ (_She turns on the light. It is a studio. At the piano, fallen
forward upon the keys, sits the body of a man. There is a revolver on the
floor beside him._) Paul!... _As I saw him!_ Is _this_ my happiness. Oh
God, _must_ I?

A MODERN PRODIGAL

_The scene shows Uncle Richard's library, a massive and expensive interior
suggesting prosperity rather than meditation. It is obviously new, and in
the whole room there is only one intimate and human note, a quaint little
oil painting of a boy with bright eyes--Uncle Richard at the age of
eleven._

_Richard walks about, waiting for his uncle, and examines the appointments
with more curiosity than reverence. Stopping by the mantle for a moment he
notices, with a start of surprise, his own photograph. He turns away with
a shrug just as his uncle hurriedly enters._

UNCLE RICHARD

Dick! Richard! At last! How are you? You received my letter?

RICHARD

I am very well, uncle. Yes, I received your letter. It was forwarded from
Florence.

UNCLE RICHARD

Good! Sit down, Richard, sit down.

RICHARD

I did not receive it until a few days ago, in New York. I came on as soon
as possible. But I had engagements--business engagements--that delayed me.

UNCLE RICHARD

Business? I am very glad, Richard, that you have given up your art. Not
that art isn't entirely commendable, but in times like these, you know....

RICHARD

Don't misunderstand me, uncle. My business was connected with art. I
haven't given up painting. I never shall.

UNCLE RICHARD

In my letter--

RICHARD

Yes. Cousin Anne wrote me about Aunt Ethel's death, but I did not realize
how changed everything here was until I read that letter from you. And now
(_glancing about_) it is even clearer. It must have been a bit