LILY—[Sits on couch with MARTHA—after a pause—with a smile.] You were forgetting, weren't you?
MARTHA—What?
LILY—That you'd invited all the family over here to tea this afternoon. I'm the advance guard.
MARTHA—[Embarrassed.] So I was! How stupid!
LILY—[With an inquisitive glance at MARTHA'S face but with studied carelessness.] Do you like Bigelow?
MARTHA—Yes, very much. And Curt thinks the world of him.
LILY—Oh, Curt is the last one to be bothered by anyone's morals. Curt and I are the unconventional ones of the family. The trouble with Bigelow, Martha, is that he was too careless to conceal his sins—and that won't go down in this Philistine small town. You have to hide and be a fellow hypocrite or they revenge themselves on you. Bigelow didn't. He flaunted his love-affairs in everyone's face. I used to admire him for it. No one exactly blamed him, in their secret hearts. His wife was a terrible, straitlaced creature. No man could have endured her. [Disgustedly.] After her death he suddenly acquired a bad conscience. He'd never noticed the children before. I'll bet he didn't even know their names. And then, presto, he's about in our midst giving an imitation of a wet hen with a brood of ducks. It's a bore, if you ask me.
MARTHA—[Flushing.] I think it's very fine of him.
LILY—[Shaking her head.] His reform is too sudden. He's joined the hypocrites, I think.
MARTHA—I'm sure he's no hypocrite. When you see him with the children—