Madden. You wouldn't have me deny her ev'rythin'?... She's got to have some fun.
Mix. But, Lord, man, y' don't earn th' income of a John D. Rockefeller.
Madden [somberly]. I know.... I ought to do much better. But that isn't her fault. Besides, she's learned her lesson.
Mix. Well, I'll be damned! T' hear you talk this way. O' course, y' kep' yer mouth pretty well shut. But we all figgered you was havin' th' devil's own time with Florrie!
Madden [rising from his seat. With deep feeling]. Ed——[He turns and goes over to the window, looks out and then faces around]. I never knew ... till just now ... how fond I was of her.
[Mix regards him with a puzzled expression. Madden begins to walk up and down the floor, at first slowly and thoughtfully, then more and more nervously. The light outside begins to fade.]
Mix [after a pause. Looking up at Madden]. Jim. Y' never c'n tell w'at these women 're goin' t' do—can yer?
Madden [stopping abruptly. Intensely]. I s'pose not, Ed. [He goes on a few steps and then stops again.] Even ... even when they're not ... high strung.
[Madden continues his nervous pacing of the floor. Mix watches him with increasing annoyance.]
Madden [suddenly]. Was that a footstep?