CURTIS—[Waving his remark aside.] One day, when I was trying to imagine myself without her, and finding nothing but hopelessness—yet knowing I must go—a thought suddenly struck me—a horrible but fascinating possibility that had never occurred to me before. [With feverish intensity.] Can you guess what it was?
BIGELOW—No. And I think you've done enough morbid raving, if you ask me.
CURTIS—The thought that came to me was that if a certain thing happened, Martha could still go with me. And I knew, if it did happen, that she would want to go, that she would fling herself into the spirit of our work to forget, that she would be mine more than ever.
BIGELOW—[Afraid to believe the obvious answer.] Curt!
CURTIS—Yes. My thought was that the child might be born dead.
BIGELOW—[Repelled—sternly.] Damn it, man, do you know what you're saying? [Relentingly.] No, Curt, old boy, do stop talking. If you don't I'll send for a doctor, damned if I won't. That talk belongs in an asylum. God, man, can't you realize this is your child—yours as well as hers?
CURTIS—I've tried. I cannot. There is some inexorable force in me—
BIGELOW—[Coldly.] Do you realize how contemptible this confession makes you out? [Angrily.] Why, if you had one trace of human kindness in you—one bit of unselfish love for your wife—one particle of pity for her suffering—
CURTIS—[Anguished.] I have—all the love and pity in the world for her! That's why I can't help hating—the cause of her suffering.
BIGELOW—Have you never thought that you might repay Martha for giving up all her life to you by devoting the rest of yours to her?