Ruth. And now you're engaged to be married! Oh, isn't it the most romantic thing! Of course you want to be alone. Forgive me. Oh, Anne, how excited you must be!
Anne [with rather histrionic intensity]. No, I'm strangely calm. And yet, Ruth, I'm afraid, terribly afraid.
Ruth. Why, what of?
Anne [acting]. I don't know ... of everything ... of the unknown. All this has been so wonderful, if anything should happen I don't think I could bear it. I think I should die.
Ruth. Nonsense, dear, what can happen? You're just on edge. Well, I'll be off. I'll join Mother at Aunt Nellie's. Give my love to Harold. You know I've never called him anything but Mr. Lawson to his face. Isn't that funny? Good-by, dear. [Throwing Anne a kiss.] You look so sweet.
Anne [her hands on Ruth's shoulders for an impressive moment]. Good-by, Ruth. Good-by.
[They kiss. Ruth goes. Left alone, a complete change comes over Anne. She drops the romantic attitude. She is nervously determined. She quickly arranges the flowers, takes out the box, etc., straightens the room, and surveys herself rapidly in the mirror. There is a sound of wheels outside. Anne goes to the bay window and looks out. Then she stands erect in the grip of an emotion that is more like terror than anticipation. Hearing the sound of footsteps on the stair she is panic-stricken and about to bolt, but at the sound of voices she pulls herself together and stands motionless.]
Man's Voice [outside]. In here? All right!
[Harold Lawson enters, a well set up, bronzed, rather commonplace young man of about twenty-eight. He sees no one on his entry, but as he advances into the room, Anne comes down from the bay window.]
Harold. Hello, Miss Carey, how are you? Splendid to see you again, after all this time. [Anne looks at him without speaking, which slightly embarrasses him.] You're looking fine. How's your mother—and little Ruth?