PS 3521 
 .056 16 
 1911 
 Copy 1 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 THE 
 
 
 
 
 IMMUNITY 
 
 RAIH 
 
 A THREE-ACT DRAMA 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT A. KASPER 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1911 BY ROBERT A. KASPER 
 
 (All rights reserved) 
 
THE 
 
 IMMUNITY BATH 
 
 A THREE-ACT DRAMA 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT A. KASPER 
 
 ^^(.^ZiyyijkZ^ 'ii^.rjCOPYRIGHT 1911 BY ROBERT A. KASPER 
 L ^ (M\ rights reserved) 
 
P5 35^1 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1911 BY ROBERT A. KASPER 
 (All rights reserved) 
 
 iClD 24400 
 
CAST. 
 
 Frank Gilmore, general manager Western railroad. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore, his wife. 
 
 Florence, ) 
 
 > their daughters. 
 Marie, ) 
 
 Jane, their maid. 
 
 John Simms, general superintendent Western railroad. 
 
 Michael Murphy, superintendent of machinery, Western 
 railroad. 
 
 Elbert Worthing, state's attorney. 
 William Worthing, his son. 
 
ACT I. 
 
 Library in the Gilmore Home. 5 p. m. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Same. One week later. 7 :15 p. m. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 S'ame. 
 Time — The Present. Place — Any city. 
 
 Note. — No time elapses between acts two and three. The 
 cliaracters are found in the same positions at the opening of 
 act three as they were left at the close of act two. 
 
 Settinc: a very elahnrnfe Hhrdrij scene. Draperi) hung 
 doors center and right. Library table center. Telephone on 
 table and chairs right and left of table. Library chair right of 
 center. Stool before chair. Bookcase along back ivall, right. 
 Desk left. Fireplace set in left wall. Davenport near fire- 
 place. OtJicr accessories about the room. 
 
THE IMMUNITY BATH. 
 
 ACTL 
 
 LiBKARY IN THE GiLMOEE HOME. 5 P. M. 
 
 {The curtain rises upon an empty stage. A slight pause 
 when the telephone hell rings. Jane enters right, crosses to 
 table center and takes receiver off hook. 
 
 Jane {at 'phone)— ReWo. Who is this! The editor of The 
 Tril)une. Mr. Gihnore is not in— Yes— Just a minute. {Puts 
 down receiver and exits right. A slight pause. Mrs. Gihnore 
 enters right, crosses to table and takes up receiver. She is 
 forty years old.) 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {at 'phone)— HeWo. Yes.— Mr. Gilmore 
 hasn't come home yet. He ought to be here very soon. 
 
 {Florence Gilmore and William Worthing enter center as 
 Mrs. Gilmore hangs up the receiver. Florence is seventeen 
 years of age, while William is twenty.) 
 
 Florence— Was that for me, mother? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore— The editor of The Tribune called. 
 
 Florence {excited) — For me? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore— No, my dear. He asked for your father. 
 
 Florence— Oh, shucks! I thought the mean old thing 
 wanted to explain why he didn't print that society notice I 
 sent in last week. 
 
 William {innocently)— Hq may write you, Flo. 
 
 Florence— You're trying to make fun of me. He owes me 
 an explanation, just the same. 
 
 William— Honestly, Florence, I wasn't trying to make fun 
 of you. Was I, Mrs. Gilmore? 
 
 "Mrs. Gilmore— Of course he wasn't Florence. How did 
 you like the show ? 
 
 Florence— Oh, dandy, mother ! Ethel Barrymore was ^w^i 
 fine, and her leading man was the grandest creature ! I could 
 love him! {William assumes offended attitude and crosses 
 
right. Neither mother nor daughter, ivho stand center, notice 
 him.) 
 
 Floeence (to another) ^Guess who sat in a box at the 
 performance. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE— Who? 
 
 Florence — Oh, you ought to guess. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Goodness, how am I to know? 
 
 Florence— Well, I suppose I'll have to tell you. Mrs. Far- 
 num. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — You don't say ! How did she look? 
 
 Florence — Scrumptious! Her divorce seems to have 
 agreed with her. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Shame on you talking that way, Florence. 
 
 Florence— That's what I thought. No use being a hypo- 
 crit. Is there, Will? {She turns to William and notices his 
 offended attitude. William does not answer Florence's ques- 
 tion, but stands sidking.) Well, what in the world happened 
 to you? 
 
 William — Oh, nothing. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore— What's the matter. Will? 
 
 William — Nothing, Mrs. Gilmore. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {smiling) — You certainly act it. 
 
 William— There's nothing the matter* with me, Mrs. Gil- 
 more. Honestly, there's nothing the matter. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore— Now I am convinced there isn't. {Smiles.) 
 
 Florence— Well, if there isn't anything the matter, why 
 didn't you answer my question? 
 
 William — I didn't know you asked one. 
 
 Florence — You know very well I did. 
 
 William— Well, if you know, you know. That's all. 
 
 Florence— If I had your disposition, I'd pose for liver pill 
 advertisements. Before taking. {Makes grimace with face 
 when reading, "before taking.") 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore— Now don't quarrel, children. 
 
 Florence {to William) — Are you going to answer my ques- 
 tion I 
 
 William — What was the question ? 
 
 Florence — I asked if there was any use being a hypocrite? 
 
 William — How do you suppose I know? 
 
 Florence— You know I think there isn't. 
 
 William — I don 't know what you think. 
 
 Florence — You certainly do. ' You see me enough. 
 
 William— The more you see of a woman, the less you know 
 what she thinks. 
 
 Florence— Still taking your grouch out on me, are you? 
 
 William {glances at Mrs. Gilmore, then meekly)—! didn't 
 specify the woman. 
 
 Florence— That's better, but it don't excuse you. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {jesting)— I hope you didn't refer to me 
 Will. ' 
 
William {startled and forgetting offended attitude) — Oh, 
 no, no, Mrs. Gilmore. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {still jesting) — I'm inclined to think you did. 
 
 William {more startled and completely forgetting offended 
 attitude) — Why, Mrs. Gilmore. I never dreamed of such a 
 thing. You were farthest from my mind when I made the re- 
 mark. I hope you don't think I'd speak that way of you. I 
 can't believe you think I would. 
 
 Florence — Goody, goody. Make him apologize, mother. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {to Willi(i)n) — If you really didn't mean me. 
 Will, I'll take your word for it; but you must be more careful 
 in future. 
 
 William — Yes, Mrs. Gilmore. {Glares at Florence, who is 
 smiling.) 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {to William) — You'll stay for dinner? 
 
 Florence — I wouldn't ask him after what he said. 
 
 William {again glares at Florence, then to Mrs. Gilmore) 
 — I'm sorry, but I can't stay this evening. Father has invited 
 Mr. Riley up tonight, and I'm to call for him at five-thirty. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — How is your father, Will ? 
 
 William — Fine. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — You'll remember me to him, won't you? 
 And remind him he hasn't been to see Mr. Gilmore and I for 
 over two weeks. I don't believe he has ever let a week pass 
 without calling since Mr. Gilmore and I were married, except 
 immediately after your mother died, when he thought if he 
 came he would only be reminded of the good times the four of 
 us used to have together. And what good times they were. 
 When your father did come again we cheered him and made 
 him forget. He and I have lieen good old friends since child- 
 hood and years haven't hurt that friendship any. 
 
 William — Father often speaks of you and Mr. Gilmore 
 and of the times you had together. But he has been very busy 
 of late on some sort of a secret investigation. I'll tell him 
 what you said. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Do, and have him come over with you some 
 night to dinner. 
 
 William — I will, Mrs. Gilmore. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Don't forget. Good-bye, Will. 
 
 William — Good-bye, Mrs. Gilmore. {Mrs. Gilmore exits 
 right. Immediately she has made her exit, William looks off 
 stage, right, to make sure she has gone, then crosses to Flor- 
 ence and confronts her. His offended attitude has returned.) 
 
 William — So you could love the leading man in the show, 
 could you? {Florence looks upon him seriously a moment, 
 then of a sudden laughs heartily.) That's right, laugh. You 
 might think it's funny, but I don't see the joke. 
 
 Florence {laughs) — Perhaps your sense of humor needs 
 fixing. {Laughs.) 
 
8 
 
 William — It's my head needs fixing, falling in love with 
 a. base deceiver like you! You're a base deceiver, that's what 
 you are ! Just like the rest of the women ! You make a man 
 think you're head over heels in love with him and then when 
 you have him in your grasp you pull the string and make him 
 dance like these toy jacks! You're all alike, I tell you; you're 
 all alike! 
 
 Flokence (laughs) — Oh, Will, you're so funny. So that's 
 why you were sulky, because I said I could love the leading 
 man in the show. (LmigJis.) I'll have to tell mother. (She 
 crosses to exit, right, hut William intercepts her.) 
 
 William — If you do, I'll never speak to you again. 
 
 Floeence — And if I don't? 
 
 William {pause) — Honestly, now, did you mean what you 
 said about the leading man! [Florence looks at William and 
 smiles. They are standing together, right of center.) Tell 
 me, Florence, did you? 
 
 Florence — Does it really make so much difference? 
 
 William— All the difference in the world. 
 
 Floeence — And I'm not a base deceiver? 
 
 William {pause) — Well, no, not if you didn't mean what 
 you said. 
 
 Floeence {smiles contentedly) — Of course I didn't Will. 
 And you're a silly, silly boy to think I did. {Marie, Flor- 
 ence's nine-year-old sister, enters center. She has her school 
 hooJcs in hand. She stands before entrance watching the two 
 lovers. William takes Florence in his arms and kisses her. 
 Marie watches the proceedings, then holds her hand over her 
 mouth to suppress a laugh ivhich is heard, and makes a hur- 
 ried exit, right, when the lovers turn and discover her. Wil- 
 liam and Florence look after Marie as she exits laughing. 
 Both cross left, and are rather startled.) 
 
 William — Now we've done it. Now everyone will know 
 we're in love. 
 
 Florence — Do you really think anvone would ever suspect 
 it? 
 
 William {thinks a moment) — We might say we were prac- 
 ticing a scene from Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 Florence — The balcony scene? 
 
 William — Yes. 
 
 Florence {suddenly becoming angry) — You're ashamed 
 of me. 
 
 William — Why do you say that? 
 
 Florence — You're always wanting to hide our secret. 
 
 'William — You know that isn't true. 
 
 Florence — It is, it is ! {Begins to cry and crosses to dav- 
 enport, left, and sits down, handkerchief to her eyes. 'Phone 
 bell rings.) 
 
 William {has started to cross to Florence, but stops, 
 
turns and looks at 'phone) — Of course, some one has to butt in. 
 {Turns, looks at Florence, then at 'phone, ivhich is still ring- 
 ing, and back at Florence.) Say, for goodness sakes, don't 
 cry until I answer this 'phone. ( 'Phone continues to ring 
 during intervals until Williaui ansivers it. Florence con- 
 tinues to cry. William looks from 'phone to Florence, then 
 speaks to girl feelingly.) Don't cry, Florence. Please don't 
 cry. You know I'm not ashamed of you. [Florence continues 
 to cry. William looks at her, then helplessly.) Go ahead and 
 cry. 
 
 Florence {stops abruptly and looks up) — I won't! 
 
 William— You see, as soon as I tell you to do a thing 
 
 {looks helplessly at 'phone, which is still ringing. Crosses to 
 'phone and takes receiver off hook.) {At 'phone) — Hello. 
 The editor of the Herald. {Florence takes her handkerchief 
 from her eyes and is all attention.) 
 
 Florence — He wants to speak to me. 
 
 William {at 'phone. Gazes at Florence when he reads 
 next line) — Mr. Gilmore is not in. {Florence turns away 
 angrily. At 'phone.) — Just a minute. {To Florence) — When 
 will your father be home ? 
 
 Florence — I'll speak to the editor myself. {Rises and 
 crosses to 'phone.) 
 
 William — Miss Gilmore will s])eak to you. {Looks direct- 
 ly at Florence and emphasizes following line) — You'll excuse 
 me. I've contracted a very bad cold. {Florence looks angrily 
 at William dud literally jerks the receiver out of his hand.) 
 
 Florence {at 'phone, gushingly) — Hello, Mr. Editor. This 
 is Florence Gilmore, Mr. Editor. I'm angry with you be- 
 cause you didn't use that society notice I sent you. Not a pa- 
 |)er in town printed it. Well, if it was an oversight, I'll mail 
 it for next week. You're filled up. Then the week after. 
 Father ought to be home any minute. Don't forget to print 
 the notice week after next. Well, yes, it would be rather late. 
 You'll print the next one! All right.. Good-bye, Mr. Editor. 
 {Hangs up receiver. She is in a happy frame of mind until 
 she sees Williams. She crosses to davenport and sits dotvn 
 pouting.) 
 
 William {crosses to her) — You know I wanted to set the 
 date, and everything, but you said I'd have to wait until I be- 
 came a famous lawyer and made a big reputation. You know 
 I'm not ashamed of you, Florence. {Florence looks away and 
 does not answer.) Don't make me unhappy, Florence. 
 
 Florence {pause) — You're really not ashamed? 
 
 William— I'm just as proud of you as I can be. 
 
 Florence — You mean it? 
 
 William — Of course I do. {Sits beside her and kisses her. 
 They look at each other a moment.) 
 
 Florence — I'm angry anyway, Will. 
 
10 
 
 William— Why? 
 
 Florence — Don 't you know f 
 
 William — No. 
 
 Florence — Can't you guess? 
 
 William — No. 
 
 Florence — Now I'm still more angry. 
 
 William — For goodness sakes, what in the world is wrong 
 now? 
 
 Florence — You can't guess? 
 
 William — No. 
 
 Florence (pause) — Well, you've been here over ten min- 
 utes and you haven't told me. 
 
 William {relieved) — You know I do. 
 
 Florence — Tell me. 
 
 William — I love you. 
 
 Florence — How much? 
 
 William — With all my heart. 
 
 Florence — And ? 
 
 William— I'll always love you. 
 
 Florence — And ? 
 
 William — I'll never love anybody else. 
 
 Florence — And you'll work real hard? 
 
 William — Yes. 
 
 Florence — And we '11 have a little flat ? 
 
 William — Yes. 
 
 Florence — And I'll prepare all your meals? 
 
 William (pretends seriousness, then smiles)— Yes. 
 
 Florence — And you'll come home every night? 
 
 William (pretends seriousness, then smiles) — Yes. 
 
 Florence — And we'll never quarrel? 
 
 William — Yes ; I mean no. 
 
 Florence — And you'll always let me have my own way? 
 
 William (serioitshj, then someirhat reluctantly) — Yes. 
 
 Florence — Now tell me a little wild west. 
 
 William — If you ceased loving me I 'd kill myself ; I mean 
 I'd kill you, then myself. (They kiss.) 
 
 Florence (thinks a moment) — Have I forgotten anything? 
 
 William — I think not. But you haven't told me. 
 
 Florence — I love you, 
 
 William — How much? 
 
 Florence — With all my heart. 
 
 William — And? 
 
 Florence — I'll always love you. 
 
 William — And? 
 
 Florence — I'll never love anybody else. 
 
 William — And I '11 work real hard. 
 
 Florence — Yes. 
 
 William — And we '11 have a little flat ? 
 
 Florence — Yes. 
 
11 
 
 William (pretends seriousness, then smiles) — And you'll 
 prepare all my meals? 
 
 Florence — Yes. 
 
 William (pretends seriousness, then smiles) — And — and 
 — I'll come home every night? 
 
 Florence — Yes. 
 
 William — And we'll never quarrel. 
 
 Florence — No. 
 
 William — And — and — 
 
 Florence — S'ay it. 
 
 William — But why should 
 
 Florence — Don't argue. Say it. 
 
 William (serious and reluctantly) — And I'll always let 
 you have your own way. 
 
 Florence — Yes. 
 
 William — Now the wild west. 
 
 Florence — If you ceased loving me I'd — I'd — I can't say 
 it, but I would. (They kiss. A pause, during ivhich they re- 
 gard each other lovingly.) 
 
 William — You're sure you love me for myself alone? 
 
 Florence — S'urely. W^hy do you always ask me that? 
 
 William — Because there's lots of girls who are looking 
 for a desirable match, not a husband. I want to be sure of 
 you. I couldn't be if you loved me for things external to my- 
 self, for life's all a gamble and the external things might dis- 
 appear. 
 
 Florence (regards him in a startled way) — You talk lik^ 
 a book. Where did you get that idea? 
 
 William (offended) — That's right. Every time I have 
 a clever idea, you accuse me of stealing it. 
 
 Florence — I didn't mean it that way, Will. 
 
 William — You're sure you didn't? 
 
 Florence — Sure. 
 
 William — And you love me for myself alone? 
 
 Florence — For yourself alone. (They kiss.) 
 
 William — Well, Flo, I'm sorry, but I must be going. (Con- 
 sults ivatch. Rises excitedly.) I'm late. (Moves to exit, cen- 
 ter. Florence blocks ivay.) 
 
 Florence— Tell me before you go. 
 
 William — I love you. (Tries to make exit, hut Florence 
 takes hold of his arm and holds him.) 
 
 Florence — How much? 
 
 William (speaks excitedly) — With all my heart. For 
 goodness sakes, I'm late, Florence. Mr. Riley will be furious 
 and father infamous. (Tries again, furiously this time, to 
 make exit, hut Florence clings to him.) 
 
 Florence — And ? 
 
 William — I'll always love you. Let me go! If I miss 
 Riley I '11 get killed when I get home ! 
 
12 
 
 {Same bus. of frying to make exit.) 
 
 Florence — Audi? 
 
 William {sees it is futile to attempt to leave ivithout sat- 
 isfying her. Speaks rapidly.) Nobody else. Work hard. 
 Flat. Meals. Home every night. Never quarrel. Your own 
 way, as I'm doing now. Wild west. {He breaks away from 
 Florence and moves to exit, center, and almost runs into Mr. 
 Gilmore, who enters.) How do you do, Mr. Gilmore. Good- 
 bye, Mr. Gilmore. {Exits excitedly. Florence laughs. Gilmore 
 is rather sober looking. He is forty-five years of age.) 
 
 GiLMOEE — What's the matter with Will? {Crosses to ta- 
 ble.) 
 
 Florence {lightly) — He was to call for Mr. Riley at five- 
 thirty to take him to his home and he's all excited because he's 
 late. 
 
 Gilmore ( excitedly) — Riley? 
 
 Florence {thoughtful) — Yes. Mr. Riley, the manager of 
 the Pinkerton detective agency. Surely you know him, don't 
 you, father? 
 
 Gilmore — Yes — did he — yes, I know him. 
 
 Florence — Why, father! What's the matter? 
 
 Gilmore — Nothing, dear, nothing. Overworked. Bunch 
 of nerves. 
 
 Florence {crosses to father) — Dear old father. You do 
 work hard. Too hard. You ought to take a vacation. 
 
 Gilmore — Think I will. Made my preliminary plans. 
 
 ¥ijOB,^ncb {rather glad) — You did? 
 
 Gilmore — Yes. 
 
 Florence — Where are you going, father? To Europe? 
 
 Gilmore — I haven't decided that. 
 
 Florence — But you said you've made your plans. 
 
 Gilmore — My preliminary plans. I've resigned as general 
 manager of the Western. 
 
 Florence — You have! When did you resign, father? 
 
 Gilmore — Today. This afternoon. 
 
 Florence — I'm so glad, father. You've been so worried 
 and worn out of late you haven't been yourself at all. But 
 now you'll be the same cheerful, happy dad you always were. 
 {Gilmore reflects remark seriously. Pause.) Oh, the newspa- 
 pers have been asking for you. 
 
 Gilmore {excitedly) — The newspapers? What did they 
 say? 
 
 Florence — Just that they wanted to speak to you. I'll bet 
 it's because you resigned your position. {Notices her father'^ 
 v'orried and, serious expression.) You're all worn out, fath- 
 er. You'd better retire early. 
 
 Gilmore — Guess I will. Where's your mother? 
 
 Florence — In the sitting room. Shall I call her? 
 
 Gilmore — Yes. {Florence crosses to exit, right, ivhile her 
 
13 
 
 father is deep in thought. When Florence reaches exit her 
 father calls her.) Oh, Florence. 
 
 Florence {stops, turns, crosses) — Yes, father. 
 
 GiLMORE {pause) — You're not serious about Will, are you? 
 
 Florence — Why, father? Why do you askf 
 
 GiLMORE — Tell me. Are you? 
 
 Florence — Why — you don't object to him, do you I 
 
 GiLMORE — No, but I'd rather you wouldn't be serious about 
 him. 
 
 Florence {pause) — You haven't anything against Will, 
 have you, father f 
 
 GiLMORE — No. But you're both pretty young. You can't 
 tell what might happen before you two were married. 
 
 Florence — You frighten me, father. Won't you explain; 
 won't you tell me what you mean? Surely, something is the 
 matter. 
 
 Gilmoee — I only mean it for your own good. I want to 
 warn you against a youthful love affair which may only result 
 in unhappiness for both of you. 
 
 Florence — But you don't object if I see him, do you, 
 father ? 
 
 Gilmore {thoughtfully and reluctantly) — You may see 
 him. {Florences crosses, right, and is deep in thought. Mrs. 
 Gilmore enters, right.) 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {crosses to her husband) — Hello, dear; 
 {Kisses him. Notes her husband's attitude.) Why, Frank, 
 what in the world is the matter? {Turns and notes daughter's 
 attitude.) What has happened? 
 
 Florence {crosses, le£t) — Father asked me not to be seri- 
 ous about W^ill, and in explaining why, he only frightened me. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {to husband) — What did you say to Flor- 
 ence, dear? 
 
 Florence — That we were both young and something might 
 happen to make us both unhappy. It wasn't what father said, 
 so much as the way he said it, that frightened me. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — I'm sure your father spoke because he 
 loves you too much to see you make a mistake. 
 
 Gilmore — I didn't mean any harm, Florence. 
 
 Florence {thinks a moment, then rushes to her father) — I 
 know you didn't, father. You frightened me, that's all. But 
 you are real sure you don't know any reason, now, why Will 
 and I should be kept apart? 
 
 Gilmore {bus. of expression) — Wh^^, no. Of course not. 
 
 Florence — You'll forgive me, father? 
 
 Gilmore — No harm done, Florence. 
 
 Marie {enters, right) — Hello, daddy. {She rushes to her- 
 father and throivs herself in his arms. Gilmore brightens 
 considerably at sight of child.) 
 
 Gilmore — How are you, dear? {Raises Marie off her feet 
 
14 
 
 and kisses her.) My, but j^ou're getting to be a big girl. 
 You'll be as big as your daddy soon., {Puts Marie doivn.) 
 
 Marie — I want to be just like my daddy. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — I tliought you were my girl, Marie. 
 
 Marie {puzzled a moment) — I am. I'm your girl and 
 daddy's girl, too. I want to be like my daddy and you, 
 mamma, 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — But you can't be like both of us. 
 
 Marie — Yes I can, mamma. Just like teacher told us of 
 women that were half fish. {Mother and father smile.) 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Marie, you must go with sister and get 
 ready for dinner. 
 
 Marie — Must I, mama? 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Yes, dear. 
 
 Marie — Oh, I wish I could eat once in my limber clothes. 
 {Father and mother smile.) 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Hurry now, dear. 
 
 Marie — All right, mamma. So long, daddy. 
 
 GiLMORE — So, long, dear. {Gilmore looks lovingly after 
 Marie as she exits with Florence, right. A slight pause. Tele- 
 phone hell rings. Gilmore' s happy countenance disappears.) 
 
 GiLMORE {to wife) — If that's a newspaper, say I'm not 
 here. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Why should I say that? 
 
 GiLMORE — Please, dear. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — But I don't want to tell a falsehood. 
 
 GiLMORE {impatiently) — It's a mental reservation. I'm 
 not here for the paper. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {hesitates, then crosses to 'phone and takes 
 up receiver. At 'phone) — Hello, the Examiner! Mr. Gilmore 
 is not here. {Hangs up receiver.) That's the second news- 
 paper call I've answered this evening. What is it all about? 
 Another election? 
 
 GiLMORE — No. {Crosses to 'phone, takes receiver off hook 
 and leaves it down.) 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Thank goodness that isn't it. If you ever 
 go campaigning again as you did at the last, I'll join the suf- 
 fragist club and do a little missionary work myself. Why are 
 the papers calling you ? 
 
 GiLMORE {pause) — I've given up my position with the 
 Western. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — You have! When did you give up your 
 position? 
 
 GiLMORE — This afternoon. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — And vou haven't said a word to me about 
 it? 
 
 GiLMORE {hesitates before answering) — You and I have 
 been good okl pals all these years haven't we, dear? 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {frightened) — Yes. 
 
15 
 
 GiLMOKE — And we've always been on the square and above 
 board and shared all our secrets. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {more frigthened) — Yes. 
 
 GiLMOEE — I want to be on the square now. {Pause.) I 
 didn't give up my position. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {somewhat relieved) — What in the world 
 made you say you did? 
 
 GiLMORE {pause) — I lost it. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {startled) — You lost it! 
 
 GiLMORE — Yes. Simms, Murphy and I were all forced to 
 resign this afternoon. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE— Forced to resign! Why! . 
 
 GiLMORE — Political reasons. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Political reasons! 
 
 GiLMORE — We supported a political enemy of the Western 
 at the last election. Of course, that wasn't the reason given. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — What was the reason given! 
 
 GiLMORE {taken unawares) — Why, none. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — But you intimated there was. 
 
 GiLMORE — There was no reason given. Absolutely none. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Are you very, very sure! 
 
 GiLMORE — Of course. Certainly. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — But I suppose the papers will make a big 
 story of it and intimate all kinds of reasons, and we'll all be 
 disgraced and shamed. 
 
 GiLMORE— No, no. That is— well, the ])a]:)ers may find rea- 
 sons; may make insinuations. But we will not mind them, 
 dear. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE— Oh, Frank! I wish you had remained in 
 that little country town, away from all this bustle and hustle 
 for wealth, and we'd have been much happier. You wouldn't 
 have worried and fretted as you have done lately, and no one 
 could speak of you then, as they will now. 
 
 GiLMORE— Don't go imagining all sorts of things dear. 
 Evervthing will be all right. Don't worry about it. 
 
 Mrs. G^iLMORE— Has the fact that you lost your position 
 anything to do with warning Florence against Will ! 
 
 ' GiLMORE {startled)— Why ,no. Why, what do you mean! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE— Oh, I don't know. Will's father hasn't 
 been here for over two weeks, and Will explained it was be- 
 cause he has been busy on an investigation, as though that 
 should keep him away. You favor Will, but as soon as you lose 
 your position you warn Florence against him. 
 
 GiLMORE {bus. of expression) — Of course, that hasn't any- 
 thing to do with it. That's so foolish. How can you imagine 
 such a thing? 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — I wonder are you keeping anything from 
 
 me! 
 
 GiLMORE— Why, no, dear. Not a thing. I've told you 
 
16 
 
 everything. There is nothing more to tell. You don 't for one 
 moment doubt me, do you? 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — I've never had any reason to doubt you, 
 Frank. I don't doubt you now. I believe in you; I trust you. 
 If I didn't, I could 't love you, and if I didn't love you, I 
 wouldn't be your wife. 
 
 GiLMORE — If I deceived you — of course. If you didn't be- 
 lieve in me you couldn't love me. That's natural. Perfectly 
 natural. I feel the same way about it, dear, the same way. 
 {Door hell rings.) 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — You act so strangly. You're all tired out, 
 worried about your trouble. But I'll share this disappoint- 
 m.ent with you, as I liave shared disjippointments before. I 
 think you'd better go away until this affair blows over. The 
 papers will be bothering you, asking explanations, and you '11 
 worry and fret and only tire yourself more. 
 
 GiLMORE — You want me to go away and leave you here 
 alone ? 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE— I think it will be better, dear. It'll be 
 rcreation for you and you need a rest so badly. I want you 
 to go and not bother about me. I'll have the children. 
 
 GiLMORE — I don't know what I'd do without vou. You're 
 everything to me, dear— everything. And I want to be on the 
 square, 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — And you will be, always ? 
 
 GiLMORE — Yes, yes, of course. 
 
 Jane {enters, center, and announces) — Mr. Murphy to see 
 Mr. Gilmore. 
 
 GiLMORE— Show him in. {Jane exits, center.) {To wife) — 
 Murphy and Simms are coming to have a short chat before 
 dinner, dear. Now, don't say any more about the Western. 
 I told Florence I resigned. The children need know no differ- 
 ent, nor anyone else— But you. I want to be on the square with 
 you. Yes, I want to be on the square with you. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — You're quite sure you're keeping nothing 
 from me? 
 
 GiLMORE— Nothing, dear, nothing. {Crosses with wife to 
 exit, right. Mrs. Gilmore exits and Gilmore recrosses, cen- 
 ter. He takes a paper from his pocket, reads it, then places 
 it on table. Murphy is ushered in hy Jane. Murphy is a rough, 
 good-natured Irishman, with a very slight brogue. He is 
 dressed neatly, but plainly, and is forty years of age.) 
 
 Jane— Mr. Murphy. {Murphy looks at Jane with a pecul- 
 iar expression and watches her quizzically as she exits cen- 
 ter.) ' 
 
 Murphy— Faith, you know me without having her tell you 
 who I am. {Gilmore remains serious.) And, to be sure, I 
 could have found my way in here alone. 
 
 Gilmore {soberly)~lV^ the custom. Murphy, to announce 
 a guest and show him in. 
 
17 
 
 Murphy— Custom, is it ? The only time T was ever shown 
 into a place was one night I was looking for Casey's saloon. 
 A copper found me before I found Casey's. And he didn't 
 announce me, either. They all knew me. {Notices Gilmore's 
 serious attitude.) You're not worrying about your job, are 
 you, Mr. Gilmore f 
 
 GiLMORE— The job doesn't worry me. I'm thinking of my 
 
 wife. 
 
 Murphy — Your wife? 
 
 GiLMORE— Yes. I lied to her for the first time in my life. 
 And if she knew — God ! 
 
 Murphy— Faith, if I was like you, my wife'^ name would 
 be Casey or Kelly or Muldoon long ago. How much did you 
 tell your wife? 
 
 GiLMORE— Only that I was forced to resign. 
 
 Murphy— That 's more than I told mine. When she asked 
 me why I quit my jol), I told her the black hands was after me 
 because I was becoming one of them financiers. And you 
 know what she said! (Laughs.) She said she didn't care the 
 black of her nails why I quit, but I'd have to support myself. 
 
 GiLMORE— I wish I could look upon the affair as lightly as 
 you do. We're in a pretty bad mess. Murphy. I wanted you 
 and Simms to talk matters over. 
 
 Murphy— A bad mess ? Sure, we're too slick for the West- 
 ern. 
 
 GiLMORE— That's what we've thought, and that's just why 
 
 we may be found out. 
 
 Murphy— Faith, how are they going to find out anything? 
 
 GiLMORE— The state's attorney has been carrying on a se- 
 cret investigation the pasf two weeks. 
 
 Murphy — How do vou know ? 
 
 GiLMORE— The president of the Newell Repair Company 
 told me so just before I came home and Worthing's son veri- 
 fied it before my wife, although he didn't say what his father 
 was investigating. 
 
 Murphy— Where did the president get his information? 
 
 GiLMORE— Two weeks ago he employed a man by the name 
 of Ford to check up on a cashier he thought was going wrong. 
 Ford worked on the books at night, of course, so no one in 
 the office would know anything about it. Two nights ago the 
 president happened into the office, and caught Ford taking 
 photographs of the stubs of checks you, Simms and I received 
 for turning the W^estern's repair business over to the Newell 
 
 concern. • 7- 7 
 
 Murphy {has been regarding Gilmore's information light- 
 ly) Say who is this fellow Ford? 
 . GiLMORE— An employee of the state's attorney's office, of 
 
 course. 
 
 Murphy {laughs)— You're a bad detective. {Laughs.) 
 
18 
 
 GiLMORE — I tell you that's the only explanation. 
 
 Murphy— Is it! Faith, you're on the wrong scent. 
 
 GiLMORE — How do you know? 
 
 Murphy — Because I met Ford last night. 
 
 GiLMORE — You met him. Where! 
 
 Murphy — At my home. 
 
 GiLMORE — At your home ? 
 
 Murphy— Yes. If you don't believe me, here's his cards. 
 {Offers Gilmore a hunch of photographs ivhich he takes from 
 his pocket.) 
 
 GiLMORE {looks at photographs excitecUg)— Cards ? Black- 
 mail ! How much did you pay for these ! 
 
 Murphy— I'm ashamed to tell you. But I'd like to go in 
 the photograph business on the same scale. 
 
 GiLMORE — How did Ford happen to come to you I 
 
 Murphy— He said he had observed in his travels that the 
 middle class do all the coughing, and he'd sooner play a sure 
 bet than a ten to one shot. 
 
 GiLMORE — How about the plates! 
 
 Murphy— Sure, I have them at my home. 
 
 GiLMORE— Does Ford know enough to keep his mouth shut ? 
 
 Murphy— If he doesn't he can learn. 
 
 GiLMORE — Simms and I will reimburse you. We'd better 
 destroy these and the plates. They're dangerous tilings to be 
 lying around. {Starts to destroy photographs). 
 
 Murphy {crosses to Gilmore)— Oh, no, you don't. They're 
 the only souvenirs I ever collected. I'm not strong for art or 
 bricks and bracks ; but I know real, live souvenirs when I get 
 my hands on 'em. 
 
 GiLMORE {reluctantkj returns photographs to Murphy, ivho 
 puts them in his pocket)— BqUqv destroy them, Murphy. ' 
 
 Murphy— Faith, now, don't you worry. I'll guard 'em as 
 jealously as these millionaire swells do their pet poodles. 
 
 GiLMORE— Let us hope that eliminates Ford. Riley of the 
 Pmkertons is at Worthing's home tonight. 
 
 Murphy— Eiley? Faith, it'll take more than a Kiley to 
 catch a Murphy. 
 
 GiLMORE— You're looking upon this thing too lightly. Mur- 
 phy. The Western fired us without giving one single reason, 
 which is proof enough they're suspicious. And why shouldn't 
 they be, when we were fools enough to turn practically all the 
 repair business over to a new concern. 
 
 Murphy— Did you have me come here because you thought 
 I needed cheering up ? 
 
 GiLMORE— I'm not laying down. Murphy. They'll have to 
 land me behind the bars before I give up the fight. But if we 
 expect to come out with a whole skin, you, Simms and I will 
 have to stand together. That's what I want to talk over with 
 both of you. 
 
19 
 
 Murphy — Stand together! What do you mean? 
 
 GiLMORE — Worthing may find he hasn't a strong enoiigli 
 case to take into the courts and then try to bluff one of us into 
 turning state's evidence. 
 
 Murphy — He'd have a fine chance with me. 
 
 GiLMORE — I know you're a man, Murphy, and I tell you 
 frankly I wouldn't take the immunity bath if the penitentiary 
 opened before me. But I'm afraid of Simms. 
 
 Jane {enters and announces) — Mr. Simms. 
 
 Murphy — Speak of the devil. 
 
 GiLMORE — Show him in. {Jane exits, center. Murphy looks 
 after her in a peculiar manner as before.) 
 
 Murphy — Simms is a funny acting one. What's the idea? 
 
 GiLMORE — I've drawn up this agreement, which we are all 
 to sign. {Takes paper he drew from pocket and placed on 
 table from table, and gives it to Murphy, ivho looks it over.) 
 
 Murphy — Faith I'll be a sport. Who'll keep this? 
 
 GiLMORE — Either you or I. 
 
 Murphy — Well, you keep it. I have enough souvenirs to 
 last me a lifetime. {Indicates coat pocket. Puts paper Gil- 
 more gave him on table.) 
 
 Jane — {enters, center, with Simms) — Mr. Simms. {Mur- 
 phy regards Jane as before. Jane exits, center.) 
 
 Murphy — Hello, Simms. {Simms is an out-and-out cow- 
 ard. He enters shrinking and greatly worried. He is thirty- 
 five years of age.) 
 
 Simms — Hello. Are we caught? 
 
 Murphy — We'll all be pinched tonight. 
 
 Simms — We will? 
 
 Murphy {laughs) — Now, don't you get excited. We just 
 want to have a social chat, don't we, Mr. Gilmore? 
 
 GiLMORE — Yes. Sit down, Simms. {Simms sits in chair 
 left of table. Gilmore stands left. Murphy right). To guard 
 again any smart play on the state's attorney's part, Murphy 
 and I thought it advisable that the three of us agree to stand 
 together. 
 
 Simms — Of course, you weren't thinking of leaving me in 
 a lurch, were you? I always opposed this repair shop scheme, 
 and you know it. 
 
 Murphy — Here, here, Simms. Don't go talking like that. 
 It wasn't the scheme you opposed. You always reminded me 
 of a safecracker I knew, who wanted to get rich on the risk of 
 a shoplifter. 
 
 GiLMORE — Everything is agreeable, then, Simms? 
 Simms — Just what do you mean? 
 GiLMORE — I mean that we are to stand together. 
 Simms — Certainly. 
 
 GiLMORE — Of course, to make it more binding, we'll put it 
 in writing. 
 
20 
 
 SiMMS — In writing? 
 
 GiLMORE — Yes. We'll sign an agreement. 
 SiMMs— Oh, I wouldn't sign anything unless I consulted 
 my lawyer. 
 
 Murphy— We 're going to bring no lawyers into this. Faith, 
 it's bad enough. 
 
 GiLMORE — Murphy and I are willing. 
 
 Murphy— Sure. Let 's take a vote on it. 
 
 GiLMORE— Here's the agreement, Simms. {Picks up paper 
 from table and give it to Simms.) Look it over. 
 
 Simms {takes paper and reads aloud) — "We hereby agree 
 as men of honor to stand together in whatever dealings we 
 may have had, business or otherwise." 
 
 GiLMORE— You see, it does'nt set forth anything specific- 
 ally. 
 
 Simms — Who is to keep this? 
 
 Murphy {bus of expression)— \Nq'\\ take a vote on it. 
 
 Simms— It really doesn't matter who'll keep it. I don't 
 see that it is necessary. 
 
 GiLMOEE— As long as we'll agree to stand together, we 
 might as well put it in writing. I think we would consider it 
 more binding that way. 
 
 S'iMMs— I don't just understand the reason for it. 
 
 GiLMORE— It's to guard against the possibility of one of us 
 turning state's evidence and thereby causing the' conviction of 
 the other two. It's a sort of a mutual protection against con- 
 viction. None of us would break our word of honor, espe- 
 cially when it is put in writing. Brink, whom we froze out 
 some time ago, may appear against us. If he does, and one 
 of us welches, it will look pretty bad for the other two. 
 
 Simms— Then Worthing has found us out? 
 
 GiLMORE— I don't know. I'm sure he's been investigating 
 We want to be prepared, that's all. 
 
 Simms— I wouldn't betray you and Murphy and I'm sure 
 neither of you would betray me. 
 
 GiLMORE— You were willing to agree orally, why not in 
 writing? {Simms does not answer. Pause.) 
 
 Murphy— Give me that; give me that. {Takes paper and 
 signs. Simms ivatches him intently.) 
 
 Murphy {offering Simms paper)— You're next, Simms. 
 
 Simms — I prefer to think it over. 
 ^Murphy {to G^//more)— Perhaps you'd better sign while 
 he s thinking about it. {Gilmore signs and Simms watches him 
 as he did Murphy.) 
 
 GiLMORE {to Simms)— Here you are, Simms. {Places 
 agreement before him.) 
 
 Simms— I'll wait until later. 
 1.7 j^uRPHY- Maybe you think we're trying to skinflint you. 
 Well, if you think so, look here. {Takes photographs from 
 pocket and holds them before Simms). 
 
21 
 
 SIMMS {rises excitedly)— My God! Where did yon get 
 
 them ? 
 
 Murphy — From the man that took 'em. 
 
 SiMMS — Ford? 
 
 Murphy — Yes. 
 
 SiMMs— What are yon going to do with them! 
 
 Murphy— Keep 'em as sonvenirs. 
 
 SiMMs — As sonvenirs! 
 
 Murphy— Yes. Faith, did yon think I was gomg to pnt 
 'em in my biography! {Simms sits again in chair, left of ta- 
 ble, takes up pen and leans over paper. Murphy, who has 
 moved hack of table is patting photographs in his pocket and 
 drops one on the floor. Simms, in leaning over paper, notices 
 the photograph. He signs the paper, looking doivn and ivatch- 
 
 ing the photograph.) . ^. . • j •* ' 
 
 Murphy {takes up agreement after Simms has signed it, 
 crosses to GUmore, left, and gives Mm the paper)— Here you 
 are. Faith, he's as obstinate as my wife. {While Murphy and 
 Gilmore are looking away, Simms hurriedly reaches down, 
 picks up photograph which lies on floor, and quickly puts it in 
 
 his pocket.) .. i? - a 
 
 Gilmore {turns to /S^iwws)— Everything satistactory i _ 
 Simms {nervously)— Yes, everything. I'll have to be going. 
 
 (Rises. ) 
 
 Gilmore— Why not stay for dinner! 
 
 Simms— T ])romised my wife I'd be home. 
 
 Gilmore {to Murphy)— Youm stay, Murphy. 
 
 Murphy— You'll excuse me. If you have a girl to show 
 me into the room and tell you my name, I don't know what 
 I'd be up against at dinner. {Gilmore smiles faintly. Simms 
 and Murphy cross to exit, center.) , , ^, , 
 
 Gilmore— Oh, Murphy. My wife thought it advisable that 
 I o-o out of town until this affair blows over. If I do, I 11 
 keep in touch with you, and I'll expect you to wire me if any- 
 thing startling happens. 
 
 Murphy— I'll do that. Good night. 
 
 Gilmore {crosses to exit, center, ivith both men)—i^ood 
 night, Murphy. I guess you can find your way out. 
 
 Murphy— Faith, if I can't, I'll call the guide. {Gilmore 
 
 smiles faintly.) , ,, . , ,., , 
 
 Simms— Good night, Gilmore. You don't think we'll be 
 
 caught! ,^. , ,, , 
 
 Gilmore— I hope not. Good night. {Simms and Murphy 
 exit, center. Gilmore stands at exit, center, a moment aft^r 
 Simms and Murphif have gone. He is deep in thought. He 
 moves a ^ew steps to desk, left, irherein he intends to put the 
 agreement he has in hand, when Mrs. Gilmore, unknown to 
 him, enters, right.) ■, ^, .^ i. j s, 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {sees paper)— Why, what's that dear ^ 
 
22 
 
 GrTLMORE {turns and is excited, heeaiise of a conscious guilt, 
 and his irife's question, without a knowledge of her presence.) 
 —Why— this 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Yes, the paper. {Marie, tinknoivnto father 
 and mother, enters, right. She is garbed in her smart clothes.) 
 
 GiLMORE — The paper, the paper. Oh, yes. We've decided 
 to buy property — property on the lake front — great site for a 
 hotel. {Recovers his composure.) You know I got the better 
 of the bargain. 1 get sixty per cent of the income, and they 
 only get forty. 
 
 Marie— What a smart pa]ia ! {Mrs. Gilmore looks at cltild, 
 Marie gazes lovingly and proudly at her father and Gilmore re- 
 flects his child's line as he uuderstands it, 
 
 As THE Curtain Falls. 
 
23 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Library in the Gilmore home. One week later. 7 :15 p. m. 
 
 {When the curtain rises Jane enters, center. She has the 
 evening paper in hand. She crosses to table, center, and places 
 the paper on table. The door bell rings. Jane exits. Mrs. Gil- 
 more and Marie enter door, right. Marie carries a school 
 book. Marie crosses to table and picks up paper Jane has left 
 there.) 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Let mother have the paper, dear. 
 
 Marie {reluctantly gives paper to mother) — You haven't 
 let me see the paper for a whole week now mama, not even the 
 funny pictures. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — You may see the funny pictures, dear. 
 
 Marie — I mean the funny pictures on the first page. {Jane 
 re-enters center ivith a telegram in hand. She crosses to Mrs. 
 Gilmore.) 
 
 Jane — A telegram, Mrs. Gilmore. {Mrs. Gilmore takes 
 telegram.) 
 
 Marie — I hope papa's coming home. {Mrs. Gilmore 
 opens telegram and reads.) Is papa coming home mama! 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Yes, dear. {To Jane) Mr. Gilmore will 
 arrive at seven-thirty. Lake Shore, Tell John to hurry. 
 
 Jane — Yes, mam. {Exits center.) 
 
 Marie — I'm glad j^apa is coming. I've missed him awful 
 much. I'll bet he'll let me see the papers. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — You mustn't ask him, dear. 
 
 Marie— Mustn't I? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — No, Marie. 
 
 Marie — I won't, mama. {She crosses to stool set before 
 large library chair, right and seats herself.) You sit here 
 mama {indicating library chair) and read, and I'll study. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — All right, dear. {Mrs. Gilmore crosses 
 and seats herself in library chair, right.) 
 
 Marie — I wished I didn't need to study mama. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {unfolds neivs paper and glances through 
 it. She continues this business while talking to Marie). All 
 girls must study, dear. 
 
 Marie — Why, mama! 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — So they'll be smart. 
 
 Marie^WIH I be smart, mama? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — If you study real hard, dear. 
 
 Marie — Does it do any good to be smart! 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — People respect girls that are smart. 
 
 Marie — Will they respect me, mama! {Mrs. Gilmore 
 has discovered an article in the newspaper which causes her 
 
24 
 
 to start. She holds paper at place and reads excitedly.) Will 
 they, mama! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMOEE {excitedly) — Yes. Of course, of caurse. 
 Now study your lessons Marie and don't bother mother. 
 
 Marie — All right, mama. {Marie studies. Mrs. Gilmore 
 hurriedly reads article and becomes noticeably worried and 
 excited. Marie does not notice this action. Mrs. Gilmore 
 tears the article from the paper. Marie looks up from her 
 book at her mother and breaks the silence.) 
 
 Marie — What are you doing that for, mama? 
 Mrs. Gilmore {pause) — Oh — why— a bargain in linens to- 
 morrow. {Recovers her composure somewhat.) I'm going 
 to buy you the prettiest things, Marie. 
 
 Marie (rises from her stool and puts down her books) — 
 Let me see the bargains, mama. {Stands beside her mother, 
 puts her arms about her neck and tries to look at the article 
 her mother has clipped; but Mrs. Gilmore holds it aivay so 
 that she cannot see it.)' 
 
 Mrs Gilmore — Mother wants to surprise Marie. 
 
 Marie — Can't I see the bargains mama? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Mother does not want to show Marie, 
 now. 
 
 Marie — All right, mama. {Phone bell rings. Mrs. Gil- 
 more rises and crosses to table center. She takes up the re- 
 ceiver.) 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {at 'phonQ) — Hello! Who is this? Why, 
 how do you do, Mr. Worthing. Mr. Gilmore will be home in 
 five or ten minutes. I'm gTad you're coming up. I wish 
 you'd hurry. Please hurry. {Hangs up receiver.) 
 
 Marie — Was that Will, mama? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — No, dear. His father. 
 
 Marie — Why do you want him to hurry, mama? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Marie shouldn't be so inquisitive. 
 
 Marie — I wasn't inquisitive, mama. {Pause.) I'm not 
 going to study any more. My eyes are tired. {Puts down 
 her book.) 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — You'd better go to bed, dear. 
 
 Marie — I want to wait till papa comes, mama. Just think, 
 I haven't seen him for almost a whole week. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — And you'll go right to bed as soon as he 
 comes ? 
 
 Marie — Yes, mama. {She crosses left. Takes up ball 
 and jacks, seats herself on floor and begins to play. Mrs. 
 Gilmore again seats herself in library chair right and is deep 
 in thought. She glances over clipping she holds in her hand.) 
 
 Marie — There was the awfullest fight at school to-day, 
 mama. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore [looks up at child) — A fight? What about, 
 Marie ? 
 
25 
 
 Marie {proudly) — About me, mama. 
 
 Mrs, GiLMOEE — About you? 
 
 Marie — Yes. Walter Mason said my papa used to be gen- 
 eral manager of tbe Western Railroad all right, and his papa 
 is only a bricklayer, but his papa always made an honest liv- 
 ing. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {quickly glances at clipping she holds) — 
 That was a terrible thing for him to say. It was horrible of 
 him to speak that way about your father. 
 
 Marie — That's just what Johnny Jones thought, so he 
 knocked the stuffin' out of Walter for being so fresh. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — You mustn't have anything more to do 
 with Walter. He's a horrid, horrid boy, Marie. Promise 
 you will have nothing more to do with him. 
 
 Marie — I promise, mama. {Marie continues her game of 
 jacks. There is a slight pause, Mrs. Gilmore all the ivhile 
 buried deep in thought and greatly n-orried. Finally Marie 
 rises, crosses to her mother and stands before her.) Is papa 
 honest, mama? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmfre — Why, Marie! I'm surprised! How can 
 you ask such a question, how can you even have such a 
 thought I Whv, of course, papa is honest! 
 
 Marie— That's what I told Walter, but Walter said if I 
 thought papa was honest, all I had to do was read the papers, 
 and you won't let me read the papers, mama! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {again glances cjuickly at clipping) — He's 
 a horrid boy, Marie. He should get a sound thrashing for 
 speaking as he does about your father. 
 
 Marie^I know, mama, and if I was a man I'd knock the 
 stuffin' out of him myself. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — And you'll have nothing more to do with 
 him, Marie? 
 
 Marie — Honest I won't, mama. Cross my heart. {She 
 crosses her heart.) 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — That's a good girl. And you won't say 
 any more about it? 
 
 ' Marie— Can't I tell sister? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — No. Not sister. 
 
 Marie — Well, I can tell papa ? 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Mother doesn't want Marie to say any 
 more about it. 
 
 Marie — I promise, but it's hard to keep, 'cause you know 
 the fight was about me. {William and Florence enter center.) 
 
 Florence — The next time I go walking with Will, he'll 
 know it. He just walked faster and faster, so's he could brag 
 I couldn't keep up. But I did. {Has crossed to her mother 
 and notices her serious expression.) Why, mother! What's 
 happened? Anything about father? 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE (rises) — Your father will be home in a few 
 minutes. John has gone for him. 
 
26 
 
 Florence {notices clipping her mother still holds) — 
 What's that"? (Mrs. Gilmore, business of expression.) 
 
 Makik— Oh, that's a bargain; but, mama, wouldn't let me 
 see it, so she isn't going to let you see it, either. {Mrs. Gil- 
 more reiiecis remark of child.) 
 
 Florence {nolicing mother's reflection)— Mother. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {to Marie) — I want to speak to Florence and 
 Will, Marie. 
 
 Marie — Can't I stay, mama? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Mother wants to speak to Florence and 
 Will. 
 
 Marie — But I can see papa when he comes. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Yes, dear. 
 
 Marie — All right, mama. And you won't show sister the 
 bargains! 
 
 Mrs, Gilmore — No, dear. 
 
 Marie — Don't forget to tell me when papa comes. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — I'll tell you, dear. {Marie exits right.) 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — x\ll week I have had to lie to her as I have 
 lied now, and now . It's terrible! 
 
 Florence — What is it, mother? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {gives Florence clipping) — Read! We'll be 
 disgraced, ruined! {William crosses to Florence and he and 
 she read clipping together. They become worried and ex- 
 cited.) 
 
 Florence — Mother! Father accused of stealing the West- 
 ern's money. There must be some mistake! It isn't possible, it 
 can't be possible! And W^ill, your father has conducted the 
 investigation and will bring the charges ! There must be some 
 mistake! Oh, it's the newspapers! They've been making 
 nasty insinuations ever since father resigned ! 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Yes ; but this ; this is a direct accusation ! 
 
 William {innocently)- — Father has been investigating 
 something or other, Florence. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — I remember now. You told me that's why 
 he didn't come to see Mr. Gilmore and I. But it can't be true, 
 that your father, our friend, has been investigating Mr. Gil- 
 more and will accuse him of theft. Oh, I can't believe it. 
 
 William — If it is true, I'll tell father a thing or two and 
 you watch if I don't. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Hasn't your father said anything about it 
 to you? 
 
 William — Not a word. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — And he never objected that you came to see 
 F lorence ? 
 
 William — No. Never. He always seemed to approve my 
 coming here. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Then it must be a mistake. Your father 
 wouldn't allow you, his own son, to call upon the daughter of a 
 man lie thought a thief. 
 
27 
 
 Florence — No. I don't think he would mother. I don't 
 think he would. 
 
 William — Oh, hang what he thinks, or anybody else, for 
 that matter. 
 
 Florence — But father did say something about Will. 
 Don't you remember, mother, he . I wonder. 
 
 William — What did he say about me ! 
 
 Florence {excitedly)— It doesn't matter! It wasn't any- 
 thing! Let's not talk about it! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — I hope we'll find it all a horrible mistake. 
 (Brightening.) Perhaps that's why your father is coming 
 here, Will, to tell us it is a mistake. 
 
 William {relieved) — I'll bet that's it. When is he com- 
 ing? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — He ought to be here now. I hope that's 
 why he's coming, to tell us it's a mistake. You'll excuse me. 
 Will? {Exits right.) 
 
 William {slowly) — Suppose — suppose it were true, Flor- 
 ence. Suppose your father were accused. Would that make 
 any difference between you and met 
 
 Florence — It's too horrible to suppose. Let's not talk 
 about it. 
 
 William — Would it make any difference, Florence? 
 
 Florence — I think a girl should put a man on a higher 
 plane. At least, she should not drag him down. Andjhat's 
 what I would be doing. Will, if my family's name were dis- 
 graced. But we'll not talk about it. I don't believe my 
 father even accused. 
 
 William — Suppose I got my father to withdraw the 
 enlarges! 
 
 Florence — But I will not believe there are any charges. 
 
 William — I'm just supposing. 
 
 Florence— Your father couldn't possibly withdraw any 
 charges. It's nonsensical to talk that way. Will. 
 
 Williaai — And it's just as nonsensical to hold ^vhat your 
 father may have done against you. I'm marrying you, not 
 your father. 
 
 FioRiNCE— Father is the grandest, dearest, creature, in all 
 the v/orid and he couldn't possibly have done wrong. 
 
 William — I'm supposing he did for the sake of argument. 
 I want this thing understood, once and for all. 
 
 Florence — What do you want me to do? 
 
 William — Well, if you're going to be pigheaded, let's go 
 out and get married before we know one way or the other. 
 Then no one can say you're dragging me down. 
 
 Florence — But do you think I'd want to marry the son 
 of the man who accused my father? 
 
 William — Tha-t's right. As soon as I fix up this family 
 name business, the only argument you had, you think up some- 
 thing else. I don't believe you ever intended to marry me. 
 
28 
 
 Florence — Will. How you talk. 
 
 William — Will you marry me! 
 
 Florence — I don't know. 
 
 William — You don't know, after I ]iave given you the two 
 best years of my life! You don't know? 
 
 Florence — 1 don't want you to look at it that way, Will. 
 Be a little bit reasonable. 
 
 William — Reasonable! You ask me to be reasonable! 
 I am reasonable! Will you marry me! 
 
 Florence — Do you really love me enough to want me, 
 even if — if father . 
 
 William — Yes. In spite of anything. 
 
 Florence — Of course I love you. 
 
 William — That isn't the question. Will you marry me! 
 
 Florence — Well, I want you. I would never marry any 
 one else. But we must not be selfish, Will. We will not think 
 of ourselves when poor father is coming home to worry and 
 trouble, even if it is all a mistake. 
 
 Jane (enters center) — Mr. Worthing. 
 
 Florence — Show him in. {Jane exits center.) 
 
 William — Now we'll find out all about it. 
 
 Florence — Yes. I'm glad this suspense will soon be over. 
 
 William — Don't you worry, Flo. Everything will be all 
 right. 
 
 Florence^I hope so, Will. It will be rather hard to over- 
 come — if everything isn't all right. 
 
 William — There you go again. We've got this thing set- 
 tled, understand, and there's no crawfishing, either. 
 
 Jane {enters center ivith Worthing)^-Mv. Worthing. 
 {Worthing is forty-three years of age and rather serious 
 when he enters.) 
 
 Florence {to Jane) — Jane, call mother. 
 
 Jane — Yes, miss. {Crosses right and exits.) 
 
 Florence {takes Worthing's hand) — How do you do, Mr. 
 
 Worthing. We haven't seen you for the longest time 
 
 Won't you sit down! 
 
 Worthing — Thank you, Florence. {Crosses to table and 
 seats himself right.) 
 
 William — What's all this talk about, father! 
 
 Worthing — I came to see Mr. Gilmore, Will. {William 
 reflects remark with offended expression.) 
 
 Florence — But it isn't true, Mr. Worthing. 
 
 Worthing — Is your father home, Florence! 
 
 Florence — No. But he ought to be here by this time. 
 Tell me, is the story the paper printed true! 
 
 Worthing — I prefer not to speak of it, Florence. I wish 
 you wouldn't ask. {Mrs. Gilmore enters right. Worthing 
 rises.) Good evening, Mrs. Gilmore. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Good evening, Mr. Worthing. I'm so wor- 
 ried about that story. Tell me it isn't true. 
 
29 
 
 Worthing {Bus. of expression. To William) — Will, a 
 friend of mine is coming over to-niglit and our maid is out. 
 
 William — I don't see wliy you want to get rid of me. I 
 want to know about that story myself. 
 
 Worthing {to Florence) — You'll excuse Will, Florence! 
 I should have asked you first. 
 
 Florence — If you want me to excuse him, Mr. Worthing. 
 
 William — Oh, no you don 't ! I want to know something 
 about this thing! If you intend to accuse Mr. Gilmore, I'm 
 going to be consulted, understand! {Worthing and Mrs. Gil- 
 more are deep in thought. They are seated on either side of 
 table, looking front.) 
 
 Florence — Your father wants you to go. Will. His friend 
 will call. 
 
 William — Well, all right; Imt I'm wise just the same. 
 {Walks to exit center. Turns and addresses father.) And 
 we've decided what we're going to do, whether there's any- 
 thing wrong or not. Haven't we, Florence! 
 
 Florence — We'll see. 
 
 William — Now I suppose you'll want to think it over. 
 You're cheating^ that's what you are! You didn't say any- 
 thing about thinking it over. 
 
 Florence — We will not argue about it. Will. 
 
 William — You bet we won't. I'm going to have my own 
 way this time. After that you can have your way all you 
 want, when we have that flat and you cook my meals and tell 
 me some wild west. 
 
 Florence — Good-bye, Will. 
 
 William — Good-bye, Flo. Good-bye everybody. {Again 
 stops at exit and turns.) If your friend expects to find me 
 good company, he'll be fooled, father. {Exits center. A 
 painfid pause.) 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Florence, would you mind leaving Mr. 
 Worthing and I alone? 
 
 Florence {hesitates, thinks, then crosses to her mother 
 and acts as though she ivoidd argue to remain. Mrs. Gilmore 
 jwotests in action. Florence hesitates and, thinks a moment) 
 — All right, mother. {Exits right.) 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {looks across table at Worthing) — Well? 
 
 Worthing — I thought Mr. Gilmore had arrived or 1 
 wouldn't have come. I wanted to speak to him. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — But tell me, please. Mr. Gilmore never 
 keeps anything from me. We've shared each others secrets 
 all our lives. You know that. Tell me it's all a mistake. 
 
 Worthing {hesitates, then rises) — I'd better go and re- 
 turn when Mr. Gilmore {Crosses to exit center.) 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {rises and crosses to him) — Please don't go. 
 You and I have been good old friends. Tell me the paper 
 made a mistake. 
 
 Worthing — I wish you wouldn't ask, Mrs. Gilmore. 
 
30 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Then it's true ! I see it in your face ! It's 
 true! {Worthing does not answer.) You, our friend, ac- 
 cuse Mr. Gilmore! You? I can't believe it! Why did you 
 come here to-night, if it is true! {Gilmore enters centers. 
 He stands there unnoticed by wife or Worthing.) 
 
 Worthing — I came because of you — because you and I 
 
 vv^ere A business matter between Mr. Gihnore and me. 
 
 A business matter, that's all. 
 
 Gilmore {moves doivn stage) — What is this business mat- 
 ter. Worthing? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {turns and crosses to her husband rather 
 startled. Worthing does not turn but crosses left, head loiv- 
 ered) — Dear, have you read the lies, the horrible lies the pa- 
 pers are printing? 
 
 Gilmore — Yes, I have read them. {Glares at Worthing. 
 To him.) What brought you here, Worthing? 
 
 Worthing — I came to talk things over, Frank. I wanted 
 to talk things over. 
 
 Gilmore — How did you know you'd find me here this 
 evening? 
 
 W^oRTHiNG — I 'i)lioned and vour wife told me so. 
 
 Gilmore— That's it? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — But it isn't true, Frank! It isn't true! 
 You, you accused of — -of theft ! There must be some mistake ! 
 The}^ can't bring such a charge against you! It's all a hor- 
 rible mistake, isn't it, Mr. Worthing? {Worthing does not 
 answer.) {To Worthing.) Tell me it's a mistake! 
 
 Worthing — There has been an investigation. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {to husband) — But you're innocent, Frank! 
 you're innocent ! 
 
 Gilmore — Of course I am innocent. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {to Worthing) — You see, he's innocent, Mr. 
 Worthing! Since you are our friend I know you're glad he's 
 innocent! You'll not bring the charges now, will you Mr. 
 Worthing? {Worthing does not answer. A slight pause.) 
 {To Worthing.) You investigated because it was your duty 
 as state's attorney to do so, but now that you know Frank is 
 innocent, you'll withdraw the charges? {Again Worthing 
 does not answer.) Why don't you speak, why don't you say 
 something? Oh, you don't think my husband guilty! You 
 can't believe him guilty! 
 
 Worthing — You make it hard for me, Mrs. Gilmore, you 
 make it very hard. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORK — Tell me you believe in Frank ! Tell me you 
 believe him innocent ! 
 
 Worthing {looks down and away) — I wish to God I could! 
 
 Gilmore {has been watching Worthing all the while, wait- 
 ing eagerly what he would say) — -You came to tell my wife 
 that? You came to tell her I am guilty? 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore {to Worthing) — I can't believe you mean 
 
31 
 
 what you are saying"! I don't believe it! You're merely jest- 
 ing — playing some trick — you want to test my love 
 
 GiLMOKE — He wants to steal your love, that's why he came. 
 He wants to make me out the thief he claims I am. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {rushes to her husband and puts her arms 
 about his neck and clings to him) — No, no! They can't take 
 me from you! No one can take me from you! But tell me 
 you're innocent, dear! It isn't true! You're innocent in 
 spite of what Mr. Worthing says! Look at me, tell me you 
 are innocent! 
 
 GiLMORE {looks at wife. A slight pause) — Do you mistrust 
 me? 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — No, no! I love you too much for that! I 
 believe in you ; but I want to hear 3'ou say once more you are 
 innocent! .{S'he looks into his eyes, he in hers.) 
 
 GiLMORE — Yes, I am innocent. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {leaves husband and crosses to Worthing 
 left.) {To Worthing.) — How can you make such accusations 
 Mr. Worthing — how can you make them against an innocent 
 man? 
 
 GiLMORE — The Western's behind it alJ They're trying to 
 ruin Simms and Murphy and me because we refused to sup- 
 port their jnitty candidates at the last election, because we 
 refused to give up our citizenship, because we refused to sell 
 ourselves to them body and soul. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {to Worthing) — You see! it's all trickery! 
 Now that you know the Western is behind it for political rea- 
 sons, it is your duty to withdraw the charges. 
 
 Worthing {crosses to exit center. Speaks to Gilmore) — 
 I'll meet you at my office to-morrow. 
 
 GiLMORE — Why did you come here ? 
 
 Worthing — I came out of friendship for you and your 
 wife. 
 
 GiLMORE — Leave my wife out of it. Why did you come? 
 
 Worthing — I want to help you avoid — avoid the disgrace 
 which will follow the trial. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — The disgrace! I don't understand! Dear, 
 what does Worthing mean! 
 
 GiLMORE — What do you mean, Worthing? 
 
 Worthing — I would prefer 
 
 GiLMORE — What do you mean? 
 
 Worthing — It would be cruel to speak before — perhaps 
 Mrs. Gilmore — you can tell her all about it later. 
 
 GiLMORE — Never mind that. Why did you come. Worth- 
 ing? 
 
 Worthing {pause) — I came to offer you one chance in a 
 million to escape punishment. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — To escape punishment! 
 
 GiLMORE — And that? 
 
 Worthing — Turn state's evidence. 
 
32 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Turn state's evidence! 
 
 GiLMORE — Take the immunity bath I 
 
 Worthing — Yes. {Mrs. GUmore watches husband and 
 Worthing intently but does not speak. She is- thoroughly 
 alarmed.) 
 
 GiLMORE {calmly) — You've missed the one chance in a 
 million, Worthing. 
 
 Worthing — How's that? 
 
 GiLMORE — You've come to the wrong man. I'm innocent 
 until i^roven g"uilty. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — But they can't prove you guilty, dear! 
 They can't prove you guilty! 
 
 GiLMORE {to wife) — If the Western had a chance to convict 
 me, do you suppose they'd send Worthing to offer me im- 
 munity? 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Don't ask me to understand anything. My 
 head's all in a whirl. {Seats herself in chair right of table.) 
 
 GiLMORE {very sarcastically) — So that's the game, eh? 
 You want me to turn weleher and betray my friends and make 
 a cad of myself before my wife. 
 
 Worthing — No. I want you to do the one and only thing 
 that will prevent you causing your wife and family comi3lete 
 disgrace; the only thing that will prevent unhappiness be- 
 tween your daughter and my son. 
 
 GiLMORE — Your son! Oh! So you think my daughter 
 isn't worthy of him! 
 
 Worthing — Not that. She is worthy. 
 
 GiLMORE — What then? 
 
 Worthing — You will make her undesirable for Will unless 
 you do as I ask. 
 
 GiLMORE {to ivife) — You see. You see the kind of game 
 he's playing-, the influences he's trying to exert to compel me 
 to lie myself into disgrace. {To Worthing.) You, you come 
 into my home and say that to me? Since when are you the 
 dictator, since when do you regulate the atfairs of my house- 
 hold? T never favored your son. I never knew of any re- 
 lationship between him and my daughter. I wouldn't have per- 
 mitted it. T will not permit it now. 
 
 Worthing — You did favor Will. 
 
 GiLMORE — I liked him, that's all. As a harmless boy I 
 liked him, but I didn't favor him. I don't favor him. So 
 you're playing your liand wrong. You're wasting your 
 cards. But I wouldn't betray my friends in spite of anything 
 you might say ; in spite of anything you might do. 
 
 Worthing — You call Murphy and Simms your friends. 
 Why, either one of them would eagerly accept the same chance 
 I have given you. 
 
 GiLMORE — Then why did you come to me? Did you think 
 me the easiest prej^ to your dastardly offer? 
 
33 
 
 Worthing — I came to avoid your wife and family the dis- 
 grace conviction will bring. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — They can't convict you, Frank! They 
 can 't convict you ! 
 
 GiLMORE — Of course they can't. They won't convict me. 
 {Mrs. Gilmore again looks on in silence uatching both men 
 eagerly, excitedly.) {To Worthing.) You'll have a chance 
 to prove your case at the trial if it ever gets that far. 
 
 Worthing — There isn't a missing link in the chain of evi- 
 dence against you and the rest. 
 
 GiLMORE — You haven't a case to stand upon. It will be 
 thrown out of the courts and the state's attorney's office will 
 be the laughing stock of the country. 
 
 Worthing — Brink, the foreman you and the Newell Com- 
 pany froze out six months ago will be a witness for the state. 
 
 GiLMORE-^With the money you have behind you, you ought 
 to secure a better witness. 
 
 Worthing — March 14th 3^011 anct the president of the 
 Newell Com])any held a private meeting in the First National 
 Bank Building, and two days later you invested thirty thou- 
 sand dollars in property in this city. 
 
 GiLMORE — I have the right to invest my money when and 
 how I see fit. 
 
 Worthing — During the past year you have invested alto- 
 gether two hundred and ten thousand dollars in real estate 
 in this city. 
 
 Gtlmori: — Suppose I have? That's my business. 
 
 Worthing — But it may be the court's business. You may 
 be called upon to account where you secured so much money 
 in one year on an eight thousand dollar salary. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Frank, have you invested so much money? 
 
 GiLMORE — Why, no. Of course not. 
 
 Worthing — You've not only invested as much as I say but 
 three hundred thousand dollars besides, all of which the 
 Newell Repair Comj^any paid you. 
 
 GiLMORE {laughs) — You haven't proved that. Worthing. 
 You couldn't prove it if it were true. {Laughs.) 
 
 Worthing — I'll prove it by the cashier the Newell concern 
 thought was going wrong. The cashier who, unknown to the 
 Newell people, secilred his position there through the state's 
 attorney's office and for the purpose of appearing in this case 
 if the Western's suspicions were true. 
 
 GiLMORE {reflects information very seriously) — The cash- 
 ier who was going wrong! The cashier {Laughs but it is 
 
 very evident the laugh is forced, and a very sad effort.) 
 
 Worthing — Tlie man Ford checked up on. 
 
 GiLMORE — Ford ! 
 
 Worthing — Yes, Ford. He oifered me some photographs 
 but T didn't need them, since the cashier ha-s secured a suffi- 
 cient number, besides other evidence. 
 
34 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE {rises excitedly.) {To Jmshand) — Frank, is 
 this true! Is wliat Mr. Worthing says true? 
 
 GiLMORE — Not a word of it ! Absolutely not a word of it ! 
 You see they have spared no pains to fabricate ! They have 
 spared no pains to concoct a good story! But they're lies, 
 all lies! Not a word he says is true! {To Worthing.) I 
 don't care to know anything about Ford or your cashier! I 
 don 't care to hear any more of your lies ! What right have 
 you to otfer immunity! 
 
 Worthing — The right comes with the office which comes 
 from the people. 
 
 GiLMORE — The people through their representatives set 
 forth certain acts as crimes and certain punishments for those 
 crimes. You take it upon yourself to do away with the pun- 
 ishment. You're defeating the will of the people, that's what 
 you are doing. 
 
 Worthing — I didn't come to argue my right, Gilmore. I 
 came to protect your wife's good name. 
 
 GiLMORE — You, you protect her good name! You're a dis- 
 grace to the office you hold. You think you're doing a hell of 
 a smart thing, when you induce a lot of poor devils to take 
 THE IMMUNITY BATH. You iiiakc tlicm believc they're pro- 
 tecting their family's good name, when in reality they're only 
 dragging it further in the mire, by making welchers and 
 cringing cowards of themselves. But I don't blame them, I 
 blame you. I'm made of different stuff, Worthing. If I'm 
 guilty as hell and standing within the shadow of the peniten- 
 tiary, T will not accept your damnable offer. 
 
 Worthing — Think of your wife, think of your daughters, 
 think what a term in the penitentiary would mean to them, to 
 their future. {Mrs. Gilmore sighs aloud but does not speak.) 
 
 GiLMORE — Would THE IMMUNITY BATH pui'ge aud clcause 
 me of the crime of which I am accused ! 
 
 Worthing — No; but you and Mrs. Gilmore and the chil- 
 dren could go to some far distant town where you are un- 
 known. You could forget the past and live for the future. 
 
 Gilmore — And how about the wives and children of the 
 friends you would have me betray; the friends who might 
 land behind the bars because of me? 
 
 Worthing — They would consider their wives and families 
 first. 
 
 Gilmore — And considering their wives and families, they 
 wouldn't accept your offer any more than I. 
 
 Worthing — I wouldn't be so sure about that. One of your 
 supposed friends has offered me a photograph of the stub 
 of a check paid you by the Newell concern. In fact, he is at 
 this moment waiting at his home, to know whether I want 
 that photograph and further evidence in return for immunity. 
 
 Gilmore — A photograph! {Laughs.) A photograph! 
 {Sarcastically.) I defy you to name the man. 
 
35 
 
 Worthing — It isn't necessary. 
 
 GiLMORE — You have made an accusation against one of my 
 friends ! I demand you name the man ! 
 
 Worthing (pause) — Simms. 
 
 GiLMORE — Simms is waiting at liis liome to hear from you! 
 
 Worthing — Yes. Waiting to receive the chance I have 
 offered you. (Mrs. Gilmore watches her husband intently 
 but does not speak. The latest development has caused her 
 greater anxiety and worry than before. Gilmore thinks a mo- 
 ment, then hastens to the telephone and takes up the receiver.) 
 
 Gilmore (at 'phone)— Hello! Main 221. Hello! Is Mr. 
 Simms there? Hello! Simms? This is Worthing, the 
 state's attorney. I accept your offer. I'll give you iimmun- 
 iTY. Have you the photograph? You have? You'll — bring 
 — it— right — up! {Gilmore puts up receiver limply. He is 
 greatly affected, although he has been afraid of Simms 
 throughout. His head is lowered and he sits there gazing 
 front. Mrs. Gilmore borders on collapse. Worthing looks 
 on greatly affected. Gilmore finally after a long pause looks 
 up and gazes at Worthing as though he has just learned of his 
 presence in the room. Gilmore speaks in a low, broken voice.y 
 You'd better hurry back to the office Worthing. Simms is on 
 his way there and you might miss him. 
 
 Worthing (moves slowly up stage, looking down. He 
 stops and speaks feelingly) — Now will you accept my offer? 
 
 Gilmore (rises, and finds his old character and speaks 
 firmly) — No. Bring on your immunity seekers. Line them 
 up from one end of the courtroom to the other. Tlie more 
 you have, the harder I'll fight. 
 
 Worthing — Consider your children's future, consider 
 your wife, consider what this will mean to Florence and Will, 
 if you insist 
 
 Gilmore — I've settled all that. I told you how I felt 
 There's nothing more to say. 
 
 Worthing — Then you refuse my offer? 
 
 Gilmore — Eefuse? Of course [ refuse. If I played the 
 game and lost I'll take my medicine. To hell with your im- 
 munity bath! (Mrs. Gilmore all but collpases in chair right 
 of table; Gilmore stands elevated to his full height center, and 
 Worthington moves to exit center, 
 
 As THE Curtain Falls. 
 
37 
 ACT III 
 
 LiBEAEY IN THE GiLMORE HoME. 
 
 {When the curtain rises, Mr. and Mrs. Gilmore and Worth- 
 ing are discovered in the identical positions they were last 
 seen at the close of act two, for no time elapses between these 
 two acts, Mrs. Gilmore is seated in chair right in a state of 
 collapse, while her husband stands elevated to his full height 
 center. Worthing stands at door center, looks back at hus- 
 band and wife solemnly, then slowly makes his exit. There 
 is a slight pause ivhen Gilmore slowly turns and looks at his 
 wife. His erect bearing disappears. He slowly crosses to 
 Mrs. Gilmore and pats her lovingly upon the cheek.) 
 
 Gilmore — Come, dear. I know it's hard, but we must be 
 brave. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore— Brave, In-ave. You ask me to be brave! 
 Ob, what shall we do, what shall we do? 
 
 Gilmore — We'll fight, dear, we'll fight. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore- -But against such odds. You are convict- 
 ed before the trial. You are doomed. What shall we do! 
 
 Gilmore — Everything will come out all right. Wait, dear, 
 and you will see. They can't convict me, they can't convict 
 me! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE^Everything is against you. Everything. 
 
 Gilmore — I know. It's a hard fight. Harder than any I 
 have had. But I'll win in spite of everything. 
 
 Mrs. Gflmore--! wish I couhl believe it. I wish I could 
 believe it. 
 
 Gilmore — You'll see when the trial is over. You'll see 
 then. Everything will be all right. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — No, no. Just think of the facts against 
 you. The facts. The facts. Where did Worthing get the 
 facts! 
 
 Gilmore — He has no facts. They're all lies, all lies. The 
 Western wants to ruin me, and Worthing is helping them. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — No. No. I can't believe that. Worthing 
 has been our friend. 
 
 Gilmore — That's just why he thought no one would sus- 
 pect him; that's why he thinks you will not believe he would 
 lie to bring about my ruin. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Oh, I can't believe it! Why should he lie! 
 AVhy should he want to ruin you ! 
 
 Gilmore — To make himself strong with the people, who 
 elected him. To make them think he's doing his duty. I sup- 
 pose he's aiming for something bigger, a higher position. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — But he wouldn't need to ruin you to ac- 
 complish what you say. He wouldn't do that I am sure. 
 
38 
 
 Why, it's so absurd, so nonsensical. 1 can't believe he would 
 maliciously ruin you or any one else. 
 
 GiLMORE — So. You believe him, not me. I see. When 
 
 I came here this evening he was telling you He's won 
 
 };ou over. 
 
 Mrs. Gir.MORE (rises. Her attitude changes completely) — 
 Frank! How dare you? 
 
 GiLMORE — I didn't mean it, dear. I didn't mean what you 
 think I did. You love me too much, you believe in me. 
 You're going to stand by me, in spite of everything. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — I have believed in you throughout. I have 
 defended you. I have asked few questions, few explanations. 
 
 GiLMORE — I know, dear. You've been more than kind. 
 Too kind with everything against me. You must love me to 
 believe in me, to trust me as you do. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — AVhy did you lose your position? 
 
 GiLMORE — I didn't mean what I said. It's the worry, the 
 trouble, the excitement, the thought of you and Florence and 
 Marie that made me say what I did. But I didn't mean it, 
 so help me God I didn't mean it. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Why did you lose your position? 
 
 GiLMORE — I've told you that, explained it all. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Why did you lose your position? 
 
 GiLMORE — I'm sure I told you. I'm sure of it. The 
 Western sought revenge because I supported an enemy of 
 the road. Don't you recall I told you that? 
 
 Mrs. Gii>MORE — If the Western sought revenge, why were 
 the papers told you resigned? 
 
 GiLMORE — I don't know why they were told that. I don't 
 — Yes. I can tell you. It just came to me. The Western 
 knew if they said I resigned without giving any reason, it 
 would look peculiar, cause insinuations. I see the trick now. 
 It's clear to me, all clear. You see it yourself, don't you, 
 dear? Don't you see it? 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Why did you warn Florence against Worth- 
 ing's son? 
 
 GiLMORE — You don't mistrust me? You don't think me 
 guilty? I can't believe you do. It isn't fair. It isn't right. 
 I didn't mean what I said about Worthing. I want you to 
 believe in me. I want to feel you do believe in me. I can't, 
 if you question me this way. Perhaps Worthing has been 
 taken in by the Western. Perhaps they've fooled him; made 
 him believe I am guilty when he will find out later I am not. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE— Why did you warn Florence against Will? 
 
 GiLMORE — I've explained that before. You're all excited, 
 that's why you don't remember. It was because they were 
 both young. You recall now, dear. Surely you remember 
 now that I explained it. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Will has been calling here tw^o yea-rs. Why 
 
39 
 
 did j^ou think he and Florence too young immediately after 
 you were forced to resign! 
 
 GiLMORE — It just happened that way. Coincidence, that's 
 all. It never occurred to me before. Will was here that day, 
 that's how it came to my mind. 
 
 Mrs. GiT/MOEE — Wasn't it because you knew his father 
 was investigating, and you knew this exposure would come! 
 Wasn't that the reason! 
 
 GiLMORE — No, no. That wasn't the reason. I've told you 
 the only reason I had. I'm sure there wasn't any other. I 
 didn't suspect I would be accused. I was as much surprised 
 as you when this exposure came. I lost my position through 
 trickery, I tell you. Trickery, that's all. They want to get 
 rid of me. They're trying to ruin me. 
 
 Mrs. GiT.MORE — You remember I asked about a certain 
 paper after you had your talk with Simms and Murphy. You 
 said it was an agreement to buy property for a hotel. Where 
 is that agreement! 
 
 GiLMORE — In my vault, of course. In my vault. I'll show 
 it to you tomorrow. You'll see that I told the truth. 
 
 Mrs. Gii'MORE — Have you bought the property? 
 
 GiLMORE — No, not yet. But we will buy it. We're trying 
 to get it cheap. But we'll buy it. 
 
 Mrs. GiT/MORE — Why has Simms turned state's evidence? 
 
 GiLMORE — Simms! Why — he's a coward, that's all. He's 
 afraid of the trial. He hasn't the nerve to fight. He fears 
 the frameup is too complete, too strong to overcome. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — And he lies and ruins his reputation? 
 
 GiLMORE — Simms hasn't any reputation. He hasn't any. 
 He's paid, that's what he is. He's paid to lie and ruin me. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — You said he lied because he wa-s afraid. 
 
 GiLMORE — That's right, but they're paying him besides. 
 They're paying him, I tell you. Oh, can't I make you believe 
 anything! Can't I make you believe what I am saying! 
 
 Mrs. GiiiMORE — Simms was your friend. You defended 
 him before Worthing. Why would you claim him as your 
 friend, and why would you defend him if he has no reputa- 
 tion! 
 
 GiLMORE — Yes, I defended him. I claimed him as a friend. 
 That's true, I did. I didn't think. I didn't want to give in 
 to Worthing. I don't know why I did. You see. You're 
 confusing me, getting me all excited. For God's sake, don't 
 question me any more. Believe in me. I need you. I need 
 your love, your faith. Don't don't mistrust me. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — And you are going to buy property with 
 Simms, a man who has no reputation; a man you claim lies 
 to ruin you ? 
 
 GiLMORE — That's right. I forgot. The agreement will be 
 canceled now. I forgot about that when you asked me. 
 
40 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — How mucli money liave you invested in 
 real estate in the past year! 
 
 GiLMOEE — Not a great deal. I haven't counted it up. I've 
 made some money lately. Struck it lucky in stocks. I may 
 have invested more than I think. 
 
 Mrs. Gii.MORE — As much as Worthing claims? 
 
 GiLMOEE — Perhaps, perhaps. Yes, I think as much as 
 Worthing claims. But I made it in stocks, I tell you. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — What stocks'? 
 
 GiLMORE — I don't know. I mean, I don't remember just 
 now. There were several, several stocks. But you have me 
 so confused I don't recall. I'll look it up in the morning. 
 I'll tell you all about it then. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMOEE — You made over two hundred thousand dol- 
 lars in stocks and didn't tell me anything about it? 
 
 GiLMORE — I know that was a mistake. I see your argu- 
 ment. It does look peculiar. I should have told you. But 
 I thought you'd forbid me to speculate. I'd have to explain 
 all the details and you wouldn't understand. You might 
 object because you didn't understand and I wouldn't make 
 the money T knew I could make. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Why didn't you tell me about the money 
 after you made it? 
 
 GiLMORE — I thought I'd invest again and make some more. 
 But I intended to tell you. I intended to tell you when I had 
 errough and wouldn't speculate again. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — But you invested the money you made in 
 real estate, not stocks. 
 
 GiLMORE — I know I did. I know that. Please don't ques- 
 tion me any further. My brain is on fire. Please don't ques- 
 tion me any more tonight. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Didn't you receive at least one check from 
 the Newell Company? 
 
 GiLMORE — No. I never received a cent from the Newell 
 concern. Not one single penny. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — How about the photograph of the stub of 
 a check Worthing claims Simms has? 
 
 GiLMORE — Simms hasn't any photograph. He hasn't any, 
 I tell you, because there wasn't any check. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Didn't Simms tell you over the telephone 
 that he had such a photograph and that he would bring it 
 over to Worthing's office? 
 
 GiLMORE — Yes, yes, he did. That's part of the frameup. 
 They can't produce the check. If they do, it's a forgery. I 
 never received a check from the Newell people. Never. But 
 I won't let you question me any further. I won't let you. 
 You haven't any right to question me as you are doing. ' I've 
 told you I am innocent and you ought to believe me. You 
 ought to, I tell you, instead of doubting me as you are doing. 
 
 Mrs. GiiLMORE — I've been wishing and hoping you would 
 
41 
 
 explain all my doubts away because T waut to believe in you. 
 But you haven't answered one single question satisfactorily. 
 
 (tilmoke — That's because you have me all excited, all 
 worked up. But I can explain everything in the morning. I 
 will explain everything then, everything. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Maybe I have excited you so that you can't 
 think. I'm willing to cling to any thought, any explanation 
 that will leave you innocent. I want to be l)lind to all I have 
 seen. I want to be deaf to everything I have heard, because 
 I want to believe in jon and love you; for your sake, for my 
 sake, for our children's sake. Think what it means to all of 
 us, tliink what it would mean to our children's future, if you, 
 their father, were convicted — convicted of theft, sentenced to 
 the . Oh, it 's horrible, horrible ! 
 
 GiLMOEE — Yes, yes. That's why I am fighting. For your 
 sake, for the children's sake. That's why I'll fight conviction 
 until the very end. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — But they can't convict you if you are inno- 
 cent. They can't! They can't! It's impossible! 
 
 GiLMORE — Money can do anything nowadays, anything. 
 That's how they framed a good story. People lie, steal, sell 
 their souls for money. But they can't convict me in spite of 
 
 their money and power and influence. They won't con . 
 
 If they do, you'll stand by me, you won't forsake me. You'll 
 
 still believe in me. You'll wait until . Oh, God, they 
 
 can't convict me! {Giluwre holds his hands over his eyes. 
 Marie enters door right.) 
 
 Marie — Oh mama. You promised you'd call me when papa 
 came. 
 
 {Mrs. Gilmore does not answer. She stands right looking 
 front, her hack to Marie. Gilmore, who was near wife crosses 
 left, looking away.) 
 
 Marie — Hello papa. {Crosses to Iter father. Notices her 
 father's attitude.) AVhy, papa. AYhat's the matter I Have you 
 and mama been fightin'f {Neither husband or wife answer. 
 Both still look away.) You're not a bit glad to see me, papa. 
 And I've missed you awful much. 
 
 GiLMORE {forced to speak) — Why, yes, I'm glad to see 
 you, dear. 
 
 Marie — Then kiss me. {Gilmore turns and leans over to 
 kiss child.) 
 
 Marie — Oh papa. Kiss me like you always do. {Gil- 
 more raises Marie off her feet and kisses her. He fmts her 
 down. Marie regards him a moment.) If there's anything 
 the matter papa, I'll help you. 
 
 Gilmore — Nothing the matter, dear. 
 
 Marie — Kiss me again ])apa. You know I haven't seen 
 you for almost a whole week. {Gilmore again raises child off 
 her feet and kisses her, then puts her down.) You won't go 
 away any more, will you papa? 
 
42 
 
 GiLMORE — Why no. Of course not — unless some busi- 
 ness — 
 
 Marie — Oh no papa. I don't want you to go away at all; 
 'cause it's awful lonesome when you're not here. 
 
 GiLMORE — I'll not go away Marie. 
 
 Marie — My, but you're cross, papa. {To mother, tvho has 
 been reflecting all the while since child's entrance.) Why is 
 papa so cross mama! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — It's late dear. You ought to be in bed. 
 
 Marie — Can't I stay with papa a little while, mama? 
 
 GiLMORE — You'd better go to bed Marie. I'll see you in 
 the morning. 
 
 Marie — And you won't break your promise like mama did, 
 when she didn't call me when you came? 
 
 GiLMORE — No dear. 
 
 Marie — All right. Good night papa. 
 
 GiLMORE — Good night dear. {Raises child and kisses her 
 as before.) 
 
 Marie — {Crosses to her mother.) Good night mama. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Good night Marie. {Leans over and kisses 
 child. ) 
 
 Marie — {Crosses to exit right, smiling innocently at her 
 father and ivaiving her hand at him until she nears exit.) 
 You're real sure you won't go away any more, papa? 
 
 Gilmore — Yes dear. 
 
 Marie — Don't you forget. {Exits right smiling at her 
 father. Gilmore tries hard to smile back at child but it is a 
 sad effort. He watches Marie intently until she is gone, ivhen 
 he puts his hand over his eyes as though to shut out the vision 
 of his child.) 
 
 Gilmore — God! {He fights hard to control himself, to pull 
 himself together. He crosses shrinking, to his wife right.) 
 I'm afraid! 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — Afraid? 
 
 Gilmore — {Still fighting hard to pull himself together.) 
 Yes ! Afraid of the future, afraid of the trial ! I fear — ! 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — You fear — . 
 
 Gilmore — {Completely breaks down. Speaks sloivly and 
 in a voice full of anguish.) They've got the goods on me. 
 The5'''re going to send me over. 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — No, no! You don't know what you are 
 saying! Oh, you, you a thief! 
 
 Gilmore — ^Yes. It's true. I am the thief they claim I am= 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — You, you my husband a thief? I can't be- 
 lieve it! I can't believe it! 
 
 Gilmore — Please, please forgive me. {Moves to -wife as 
 though to take her in his arms.) 
 
 Mrs. Gilmore — {Moves away quickly crossing left.) Don't 
 come near me! Don't touch me! You're unclean, unclean! 
 
 Gilmore — Yes, jgs. I know that. I'm ashamed, ashamed. 
 
43 
 
 Bnt think what I have suffered, think what I have endured, 
 fearing and dreading each day that I would be found out, 
 and you, you wouki know the truth. 
 
 Mrs. GriLMORE — And you lied and lied and lied! Told lie 
 after lie to cover up the last! You spoke disgracefully of 
 Worthing who came here as your friend, accused him of 
 lying to ruin you, to attain personal ends! You allowed me 
 to defend j^ou ! You deceived me ! You have broken my faith 
 in you! Oh, it's terrible, terrible! 
 
 GiLMOEE — I lied because I love you. I didn't want you to 
 know the truth and suffer what I have suffered. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — You, you speak of love to me! You, who 
 have ruined my life, my reputation! You who will ruin your 
 children 's good name and their future ! 
 
 GiLMORE — I am the thief. I'll stand the consecpences. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — You, you stand the consequences! Flor- 
 ence and Marie and I will stand the consecpences. It is al- 
 ways the wife and children who stand the consequences. Oh, 
 I wish I had never met you, never known you! 
 
 GiLMORE — Don't say that. Please don't say that. I need 
 you more than I have ever needed you before. I need you 
 to fight with me, to help me save my good name and yours. 
 I am disgraced, shamed, my future is ruined unless you fight 
 with me. There is nothing left to live for, no reason, no 
 incentive to fight, unless you, you stand by me. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE: — Why didn't you think of me before, before 
 you stole? Why didn't you think of your children! Oh, why 
 did you steal? 
 
 GiLMORE — I was a fool, a fool ! I stole because the greed 
 for gold had hold of my very soul. Money, money, flooded 
 my brain. I was crazy for it, craved for it. But I see my 
 mistake now. I see it too clearly. But I won't lose you. 
 You'll stand by me. You'll stand by me and help me fight. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — I told you that if I didn't trust you I 
 couldn't love you, and if I didn't love you I wouldn't be 
 your wife. 
 
 GiLMORE — Yes! Yes! You told me that! But now that 
 you are confronted with the reality, you didn't mean it. Oh, 
 I can't believe you mean it! I can't believe you would leave 
 me! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Do you think I would live with sa man who 
 has deceived me, disgraced me, disgraced my children, a man 
 I could not love or trust? 
 
 GiLMORE — But you can trust me now. I'll win back your 
 love if you'll give me the chance. I'll win it back and make 
 you forget what I have done. The disgrace I have brought 
 upon you. We'll begin all over again, forget everything. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — Forget? People will frown upon me, laugh 
 at me, point me out as the wife of a thief. Do you think I 
 will forget? 
 
GiLMORE — 1 know it will be liard to forget, but you will 
 forgive. For the children's sake you will forgive me. The 
 marriage vow is sacred. Think what it would mean to Flor- 
 ence and Marie if you, their mother, left me. Think what it 
 would mean to them, think what they would say. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMOKE— It's you who has cast a blemish upon their 
 good name. It's you who has disgraced them. Nothing I 
 might do would disgrace them further. 
 
 GiLMOEE — Yes, yes, I realize that. But I must have them 
 and you. You are still my wife. You did love me. You did 
 trust me. For the children's sake you will trust and love me 
 again. For their sake you will stand by and help me jBght 
 it out. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — You haven't a chance in the w^orld to fight 
 ii out and win. You are going to the penitentiary, that's 
 where you .are going. To the pen— No! No! I won't let 
 you, I won't let you go! 
 
 GiLMORE— Oh, I'm glad you're with me! I'm glad you'll 
 help me fight ! I'm glad ^^ou'll stand by me! 
 
 Mrs. GiEMc^E — Vou must accei)t Worthing's offer. 
 
 GiLMOEE — Oh ! Oh ! I can't believe you mean that! You, 
 my wife, ask me to turn welcher? Oh, no, no! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMOEE — You must, you must ! It will keep you 
 with us instead of there, there where you will be further dis- 
 graced, where you'll further disgrace us! 
 
 Gtemork- — No, no! It will be worse if I do as you say! 
 It will be worse! We will be disgraced more! Think what 
 a coward, what a cur I will be making of myself! For God's 
 sake don't ask me to accept Worthing's offer! 
 
 Mrs. GiiiMORE — Florence's happiness is dependent .u]ion it. 
 
 GiLMORE — I don't want her to marry Worthing's son. I 
 never wanted her to marry him. I won't let her marry him. 
 You, you ask me to turn welcher so she can marry Worth- 
 ing's son? 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — You owe it to all of us to avoid becoming 
 a — a convict ! 
 
 GiLMORE — I will avoid that! I'll fight, that's how I'll 
 avoid it. I'll beat them with all their immunity seekers 
 against me! I'll beat them, that's what I'll do! I'll beat 
 them, I tell you! I'll beat them! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMOEE — You'll accept Worthing's offer. 
 
 Gn.MORE— But I can't! I won't! Please don't ask me! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — You must, you must! You'll accept it 
 now, before it's too late. (Crosses to 'phone.) 
 
 GiLMORE — Please, please don't! Think what this means 
 to you, to me, to all of us ! I won't do it, I tell you ! 
 
 'Mrs. GiLMORE (r// 'p/?o»e)— Hello! Central' 180. 
 
 GiLMORE — It's too late now! I refused W^orthing's offer! 
 He won't let me accept it! 
 
45 
 
 Mrs. GiLMOEE — Yes, yes, lie will. 
 
 GiLMOEE — Can't I make you understand! Please listen 
 to reason. Don't ask me to do the thing I dread, the thing 
 I despise. The immunity bath won't cleanse me. It'll fur- 
 ther disgrace all of us, I tell you. 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — It will avoid needless disgrace and shame. 
 Marie missed you so much while you were away. Think how 
 she will miss you if — think how I will have to lie and scheme 
 to shield the truth from her. Think what it will mean to her 
 future, to Florence's future, if you, their father, go to prison. 
 
 GiLMOEE — No, for God's sake, don't! Let me fight! I 
 want to fight! I must fight! I'll win if you give me the 
 chance ! I want to fight, I tell you ! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMOEE— Hello! Who is this! Just a minute. 
 (Rises and looks at hv.sband.) Mr. Worthing wants to speak 
 to you. 
 
 GiLMOEE — For God's sake, don't insist! Tell him you 
 made a mistake! There's no one here wants to speak to him! 
 He hasn't the right to make the offer! He's doing away with 
 the punishment, defeating the will of the people! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMORE — It means me, it means the children. 
 
 GiLMOEE — No, no! Don't say that! Don't put it that 
 way! There's no one wants to speak to Worthing, no one 
 here wants to speak to him! Let me fight it out! Please 
 stand by me and fight with me! 
 
 Mrs. GiLMOEE— If you had a? chance to Avin, yes. But you 
 liaven't, and you- must avoid the ])enitentiary. If you want 
 me and the children you must avoid it. 
 
 GiLMOEE — You, you my wife, make me a welcher, a cur, a 
 coward, because I can't bear to lose vou ! Whv did I steal? 
 Why did I steal? God! 
 
 {Gilmorr, puts his hands over his eyes, completely breaks 
 don-u and slowly staggers to the telephone) 
 
 As THE CuRTAIISr FaLLS. 
 
lUN 5 1911 
 LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS } 
 
 015 939 417 7 f 
 
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