ELFIE. Oh, forget that. [Rises, crosses to centre.
LAURA. Maybe—maybe if he knew all about it—the suffering—he wouldn't blame me.
ELFIE. Who—the good man who wanted to lead you to the good life without even a bread-basket for an advance-agent? Huh!
LAURA. Still he doesn't know how desperately poor I am.
ELFIE. He knows you're out of work, don't he?
LAURA. [Turning to ELFIE.] Not exactly. I've let him think that I'm getting along all right.
ELFIE. Then you're a chump. Hasn't he sent you anything?
LAURA. He hasn't anything to send.
ELFIE. Well, what does he think you're going to live on?—asphalt croquettes with conversation sauce?
LAURA. I don't know—I don't know. [Sobbing.