LAURA. [Rising and angrily crossing to armchair.] What did you come here for? Why can't you leave me alone when I'm trying to get along?
ELFIE. Because I want to help you.
LAURA. [During speech crosses to up-stage side of bed, angrily tosses quilt to floor and sits on bed in tears.] You can't help me. I'm all right—I tell you I am. What do you care anyway?
ELFIE. [Sits on bed, crosses down stage to lower left side of bed, sits facing LAURA.] But I do care. I know how you feel with an old cat for a landlady and living up here on a side street with a lot of cheap burlesque people. Why, the room's cold [LAURA rises, crosses to window.], and there's no hot water, and you're beginning to look shabby. You haven't got a job—chances are you won't have one. What does [Indicating picture on bed with thumb.] this fellow out there do for you? Send you long letters of condolences? That's what I used to get. When I wanted to buy a new pair of shoes or a silk petticoat, he told me how much he loved me; so I had the other ones re-soled and turned the old petticoat. And look at you, you're beginning to show it. [She surveys her carefully.] I do believe there are lines coming in your face [LAURA crosses to dresser quickly, picks up hand mirror, and looks at herself.], and you hide in the house because you've nothing new to wear.
LAURA. [Puts down mirror, crossing down to back of bed.] But I've got what you haven't got. I may have to hide my clothes, but I don't have to hide my face. And you with that man—he's old enough to be your father—a toddling dote hanging on your apron-strings. I don't see how you dare show your face to a decent woman.
ELFIE. [Rises.] You don't!—but you did once and I never caught you hanging your head. You say he's old. I know he's old, but he's good to me. He's making what's left of my life pleasant. You think I like him. I don't,—sometimes I hate him,—but he understands; and you can bet your life his check is in my mail every Saturday night or there's a new lock on the door Sunday morning. [Crossing to fireplace.
LAURA. How can you say such things to me?
ELFIE. [Crosses to left end of table.] Because I want you to be square with yourself. You've lost all that precious virtue women gab about. When you've got the name, I say get the game.
LAURA. You can go now, Elfie, and don't come back.
ELFIE. [Gathering up muff, &c.] All right, if that's the way you want it to be, I'm sorry. [A knock on the door.