BLANCHE.  Mr. Mason has just told us father lost everything in it.

STERLING. [Aghast.] You don’t mean your father hasn’t left any money?

BLANCHE.  Nothing.

STERLING. [Forgetting everything but what this means to him.] Nothing!  But I was counting on your share to save me!  What did the damned old fool mean?

BLANCHE.  Dick!

STERLING.  Forgive me, I didn’t mean to say that.

BLANCHE.  Oh, who are you! What are you!  You are not the man I thought when I married you!  Every day something new happens to frighten me, to threaten my love for you!

STERLING.  No, no, don’t say that, old girl.

[He tries to take her hand.

BLANCHE.  What right have you to criticise my father, to curse him—­and to-day!

STERLING.  I don’t know what I’m saying, Blanche.  Try to forgive me.  I wouldn’t have thought of such a thing as his money to-day if it wasn’t the only thing that can save me from—­disgrace.

[His voice sinking almost to a whisper and the man himself sinking into a chair.

BLANCHE.  Disgrace!  How?  What disgrace?

[Going to him.

STERLING.  I can’t explain it; you wouldn’t understand.

BLANCHE.  You must explain it! Your disgrace is mine.

STERLING. [Alarmed at having said so much, tries to retract a little.] Disgrace was too strong a word—­I didn’t mean that.  I’m in trouble.  I’m in trouble.  Good God, can’t you see it?  And if you love me, why don’t you leave me alone?

BLANCHE.  How can I go on loving you without your confidence?—­without ever being suffered to give you any sympathy?  Doll wives are out of fashion, and even if they weren’t, I could never be one.

STERLING. [Laughing.] My dear, I’d never accuse you of being stuffed with sawdust.

BLANCHE.  Oh, and now you joke about it.  Take care, Dick.

STERLING.  What’s this, a threat?

BLANCHE.  Yes, if you like to call it that.  You’ve been putting me more and more completely out of your life; take care that I don’t finish your work and go the last step.

STERLING. [Seizing her roughly by the wrist.] The last step!  What do you mean by that? [Holding her hand more roughly.] You dare to be unfaithful to me!

BLANCHE.  What!  You could think I meant that!  Ugh!  How could you?

STERLING.  Well, what did you mean then?  Eh?

[Pulling her up close to him, her face close to his.  She realizes first by the odor, then by a searching look at his face, that he is partly under the influence of liquor.

BLANCHE. [With pathetic shame.] Let me go!  I see what’s the matter with you, but the reason is no excuse; you’ve been drinking.

STERLING. [Dropping her hand.] Ugh!  The usual whimper of a woman!