MARTHA—Horribly. I don't know what I'll do.
LILY—Then why—why? Think, Martha. If Curt knew—that was to happen—he'd want to stay here with you. I'm sure he would.
MARTHA—[Shaking her head sadly.] No. Curt has grown to dislike children. They remind him of—ours that were taken. He adored them so—he's never become reconciled.
LILY—If you confronted Curt with the actual fact, he'd be reconciled soon enough, and happy in the bargain.
MARTHA—[Eagerly.] Do you really think so?
LILY—And you, Martha—I can tell from the way you've talked that you'd like to.
MARTHA—[Excitedly.] Yes, I—I never thought I'd ever want to again. For many years after they died I never once dreamed of it— But lately—the last years—I've felt—and when we came to live here—and I saw all around me—homes—and children, I—[She hesitates as if ashamed at having confessed so much.]
LILY—[Putting an arm around her—affectionately.] I know. [Vigorously.] You must, that's all there is to it! If you want my advice, you go right ahead and don't tell Curt until it's a fact he'll have to learn to like, willy-nilly. You'll find, in his inmost heart, he'll be tickled to death.
MARTHA—[Forcing a smile.] Yes, I—I'll confess I thought of that. In spite of my fear, I—I've—I mean—I—[She flushes in a shamed confusion.]
LILY—[Looking at her searchingly.] Why, Martha, what—[Then suddenly understanding—with excited pleasure.] Martha! I know! It is so, isn't it? It is!