ELFIE. There, old girl, don't cry, don't cry. You just sit down here
and let me put my arms around you. [ELFIE _leads_ LAURA _over to
armchair, places muff, &c., in chair, and sits_ LAURA _down in chair_.
ELFIE _sits on right arm of chair with her left arm behind_ LAURA;
_hugs_ LAURA _to her_. LAURA _in tears and sobbing during scene_.]
I'm awful sorry--on the level, I am. I shouldn't have said it. I know
that. But I've got feelings too, even if folks don't give me credit
for it.

LAURA. I know, Elfie. I've gone through about all I can stand.

ELFIE. Well, I should say you have--and more than I would. Anyway a
good cry never hurts any woman. I have one myself, sometimes--under
cover.

LAURA. [_More seriously, recovering herself_.] Perhaps what you said
was true.

ELFIE. We won't talk about it.

[_Wiping_ LAURA'S _eyes and kissing her_.

LAURA. [_With persistence_.] But perhaps it was true, and, Elfie--

ELFIE. Yes.

LAURA. I think I've stood this just as long as I can. Every day is a
living horror.

ELFIE. [_Looking around room_.] It's the limit.

LAURA. I've got to have money to pay the rent. I've pawned everything
I have, except the clothes on my back.

ELFIE. I'll give you all the money you need, dearie. Great heavens,
don't worry about that. Don't you care if I got sore and--and lost my
head.

LAURA. No; I can't let you do that. [_Rises; crosses to table_.] You
may have been mad,--awfully mad,--but what you said was the truth. I
can't take your money. [_Sits right of table_.

ELFIE. Oh, forget that. [_Rises, crosses to centre_.

LAURA. Maybe--maybe if he knew all about it--the suffering--he
wouldn't blame me.

ELFIE. Who--the good man who wanted to lead you to the good life
without even a bread-basket for an advance-agent? Huh!

LAURA. Still he doesn't know how desperately poor I am.

ELFIE. He knows you're out of work, don't he?

LAURA. [_Turning to_ ELFIE.] Not exactly. I've let him think that I'm
getting along all right.

ELFIE. Then you're a chump. Hasn't he sent you anything?

LAURA. He hasn't anything to send.

ELFIE. Well, what does he think you're going to live on?--asphalt
croquettes with conversation sauce?

LAURA. I don't know--I don't know. [_Sobbing_.

ELFIE. [_Crosses to_ LAURA, _puts arms around her_.] Don't be foolish,
dearie. You know there is somebody waiting for you--somebody who'll be
good to you and get you out of this mess.

LAURA. You mean Will Brockton? [_Loo