I gave him your aunt Mary’s envelope.
David
I know you did, Daddy.
[The two gaze at each other, wishing to say much, but unable to break through their masculine reserve. Millman inspects the stripped tree with elaborate care. David does likewise. Millman turns toward his son, distant ten feet; gazes at him; folds his arms. David observes the gesture—deliberately mimics it to the life.]
Millman
Well, son?
David
Well, Daddy?
[Millman unfolds his arms, and hooks his thumbs into his trouser pockets. Again David observes—and copies the pose.]
Millman