GLADYS:  Woman, you cannot deceive me.  You’ve been to the dry-dock and had your face scraped.

BIRDIE:  So, you still want war?

GLADYS:  No, I want justice!!!! (ALGERNON conducts Chord.) You have tracked me like sleuthhounds.  You have hunted me down after all these years.  You have robbed me of home, husband, honor and friends.  What then is left me? (L.)

BIRDIE:  (Menacingly.) There is always the river.

GLADYS:  What, you dare suggest that, you with your past!

BIRDIE:  How dare you mention that to me!  I am now writing Sunday stories for the New York “American.” [2] (Crosses to left and sits.)

[2] Substitute name of the local sensational newspaper.

GLADYS:  (Stunned.) Sophie Lyons, now I see it all.

ALGERNON:  (Center.) I have here a mortgage.

GLADYS:  A mortgage!!!!  What is it on?

ALGERNON:  I don’t know.  What difference does that make?  It is a mortgage.  That’s all that’s necessary.

GLADYS:  Can it be a mortgage on the old farm?

ALGERNON:  (Moves over to R.) Certainly, on the old farm!!!!  The dear old homestead in New Hampshire. (Takes paper from pocket.  Crosses over to GLADYS.) I have also the paper that always goes with the mortgage.  Sign this paper and the mortgage shall be yours, refuse—­and—­do you mind my coming closer so that I can hiss this in your ear?

GLADYS:  Not at all, come right over.

ALGERNON:  (Close to GLADYS.) Refuse (Hiss), I say, and you and your child shall be thrown into the streets to starve. (Hiss.)

GLADYS:  (Crosses R.) Oh, I must have time to drink—­I mean think. 
But this is infamous.  The landlord will—­

ALGERNON:  I am the landlord.  Now will you sign the papers?

GLADYS:  No, a thousand times no!!!!! (Chord.) (ALGERNON conducts
Chord.) No!!!!

BIRDIE:  (Hand to ear.) Good gracious, don’t scream so, where do you think you are?

ALGERNON:  You won’t sign?

GLADYS:  No, do your worst, throw me into the street with my child. 
He is sick, dying!!!!

ALGERNON:  What’s the matter with him? (Goes to bed.) (PHONSIE is heaving and whistling.) Great heavens, he has the heaves. (Goes R.)

BIRDIE:  What are you doing for him?

GLADYS:  Trying the hot air treatment.

BIRDIE:  I should think you would be expert at that.

GLADYS:  The doctor says he has grey matter in his brain.

BIRDIE:  (Comes down L.) I am sorry, very sorry.

ALGERNON:  Sorry!  Bah, this is a cheap play for sympathy! (To
GLADYS:) Will you sign the papers?

GLADYS:  Never, I defy you:  (To BIRDIE.) As for you, beautiful fiend that you are, you came between me and my husband; you stole him from me with your dog-faced beauty; I mean doll-faced.  But I can see your finish, I can see you taking poison in about fifteen minutes.