EMILY—Not I! I never want to lay eyes on it.
JOHN—Nor I.
ESTHER—I was only thinking—everyone will think it funny if we don't.
JAYSON—[Hastily.] Yes, yes. We must keep up appearances. [Getting to his feet.] Yes, I think we had better all go up—make some sort of inquiry about Martha, you know. It's expected of us and—[They are all standing, hesitating, when the door in the rear is opened and the NURSE appears, supporting CURT. The latter is like a corpse. His face is petrified with grief, his body seems limp and half-paralyzed.]
NURSE—[Her eyes flashing, indignantly.] It's a wonder some of you wouldn't come up—here, help me! Take him, can't you? I've got to run back!
[JAYSON and SHEFFIELD spring forward and lead CURT to a chair by the fire.]
JAYSON—[Anxious.] Curt! Curt, my boy! What is it, son?
EMILY—[Catching the NURSE as she tries to go.] Nurse! What is the matter?
NURSE—[Slowly.] His wife is dead. [They are all still, stunned.] She lived just long enough to recognize him.
EMILY—And—the baby?