LAURA. [To WILL.] Go—­go.  Please go.

WILL. [Deliberately.] If that’s the way you want it, I’m willing.

Exit WILL into the sleeping-apartment. LAURA and JOHN stand facing each other.  He enters again with hat and coat on, and passes over toward the door. LAURA and JOHN do not move.  When he gets just a little to the left of the centre of the stage LAURA steps forward and stops him with her speech.

LAURA.  Now before you go, and to you both, I want to tell you how I’ve learned to despise him.  John, I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true—­it’s true.  I don’t love anyone in the world but just you.  I know you don’t think that it can be explained—­maybe there isn’t any explanation.  I couldn’t help it.  I was so poor, and I had to live, and he wouldn’t let me work, and he’s only let me live one way, and I was hungry.  Do you know what that means?  I was hungry and didn’t have clothes to keep me warm, and I tried, oh, John, I tried so hard to do the other thing,—­the right thing,—­but I couldn’t.

JOHN.  I—­I know I couldn’t help much, and perhaps I could have forgiven you if you hadn’t lied to me.  That’s what hurt. [Turning to WILL and approaching until he can look him in the eyes.] I expected you to lie, you’re that kind of a man.  You left me with a shake of the hand, and you gave me your word, and you didn’t keep it.  Why should you keep it?  Why should anything make any difference with you?  Why, you pup, you’ve no right to live in the same world with decent folks.  Now you make yourself scarce, or take it from me, I’ll just kill you, that’s all.

WILL.  I’ll leave, Madison, but I’m not going to let you think that I didn’t do the right thing with you.  She came to me voluntarily.  She said she wanted to come back.  I told you that, when I was in Colorado, and you didn’t believe me, and I told you that when she did this sort of thing I’d let you know.  I dictated a letter to her to send to you, and I left it sealed and stamped in her hands to mail.  She didn’t do it.  If there’s been a lie, she told it.  I didn’t.

JOHN turns to her.  She hangs her head and averts her eyes in a mute acknowledgment of guilt.  The revelation hits JOHN so hard that he sinks on the trunk centre, his head fallen to his breast.  He is utterly limp and whipped.  There is a moment’s silence.

WILL. [Crosses to JOHN.] You see!  Why, my boy, whatever you think of me or the life I lead, I wouldn’t have had this come to you for anything in the world. [JOHN makes an impatient gesture.] No, I wouldn’t.  My women don’t mean a whole lot to me because I don’t take them seriously.  I wish I had the faith and the youth to feel the way you do.  You’re all in and broken up, but I wish I could be broken up just once.  I did what I thought was best for you because I didn’t think she could ever go through the way you wanted her to.  I’m sorry it’s all turned out bad. [Pause.] Good-bye.