ACT III
SCENE—Same as Act II. As the curtain rises, JAYSON is discovered sitting in an armchair by the fireplace, in which a log fire is burning fitfully. He is staring into the flames, a strained, expectant expression on his face. It is about three o'clock in the morning. There is no light but that furnished by the fire which fills the room with shifting shadows. The door in the rear is opened and RICHARD appears, his face harried by the stress of unusual emotion. Through the opened doorway, a low, muffled moan of anguish sounds from the upper part of the house. JAYSON and RICHARD both shudder. The latter closes the door behind him quickly as if anxious to shut out the noise.
JAYSON—[Looking up anxiously.] Well?
RICHARD—[Involuntarily straightening up as if about to salute and report to a superior officer.] No change, sir. [Then, as if remembering himself, comes to the fireplace and slumps down in a chair—agitatedly.] God, Dad, I can't stand her moaning and screaming! It's got my nerves shot to pieces. I thought I was hardened. I've heard them out in No Man's Land—dying by inches—when you couldn't get to them or help—but this is worse—a million times! After all, that was war—and they were men—
JAYSON—Martha is having an exceptionally hard ordeal.
RICHARD—Since three o'clock this morning—yesterday morning, I should say. It's a wonder she isn't dead.
JAYSON—[After a pause.] Where is Curt?
RICHARD—[Harshly.] Still out in the garden, walking around bareheaded in the cold like a lunatic.
JAYSON—Why didn't you make him come in?