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Theft: A Play In Four Acts
Starkweather
Nothing?
Housekeeper
Nothing.
Starkweather
Throw out her clothes – everything.
(A confused mass of feminine apparel is tossed out, falling near Dobleman's feet, who, in consequence, is hugely mortified and embarrassed.)
(Chalmers examines garments, then steps behind screen a moment, and reappears.)
Chalmers
Nothing.
(Chalmers, Starkweather, and Hubbard gaze at each other dumbfoundedly.)
(The two Maids come out from behind screen and stand near door to right rear.)
(Starkweather is loath to believe, and steps to Margaret's garments and overhauls them.)
Starkweather
(To Chalmers, looking inquiringly toward screen.) Are you sure?
Chalmers
Yes; I made certain. She hasn't them.
Starkweather
(To Housekeeper.) Mrs. Middleton, examine those girls.
Housekeeper
(Passing hands over dresses of Maids.) No, sir.
Margaret
(From behind screen, in a subdued, spiritless voice.) May I dress – now?
(Nobody answers.) It – it is quite chilly.
(Nobody answers.) Will you let Linda come to me, please?
(Starkweather nods savagely to Linda, to obey.) (Linda crosses to garments, gathers them up, and disappears behind screen.)
Starkweather
(To Housekeeper.)
You may go.
(Exit Housekeeper and the two Maids.)
Dobleman
(Hesitating, after closing door.) Shall I lock it?
(Starkweather does not answer, and Dobleman leaves door unlocked.)
Connie
(Rising.) May I take mother away?
(Starkweather, who is in a brown study, nods.) (Connie assists Mrs. Starkweather to her feet.)
Mrs. Starkweather
(Staggering weakly, and sinking back into chair.) Let me rest a moment, Connie. I'll be better. (To Starkweather, who takes no notice.) Anthony, I am going to bed. This has been too much for me. I shall be sick. I shall never catch that train to-day.
(Shudders and sighs, leans head back, closes eyes, and Connie fans her or administers smelling salts.)
Chalmers
(To Hubbard.) What's to be done?
Hubbard
(Shrugging shoulders.) I'm all at sea. I had just left the letters with him, when Mrs. Chalmers entered the room. What's become of them? She hasn't them, that's certain.
Chalmers
But why? Why should she have taken them?
Hubbard
(Dryly, pointing to crumpled photograph on floor.) It seems very clear to me.
Chalmers
You think so? You think so?
Hubbard
I told you what I saw last night at his rooms. There is no other explanation.
Chalmers
(Angrily.) And that's the sort he is – vaunting his moral superiority – mouthing phrases about theft – our theft – and himself the greatest thief of all, stealing the dearest and sacredest things —
(Margaret appears from behind screen, pinning on her hat. She is dressed, but somewhat in disarray, and Linda follows, pulling and touching and arranging. Margaret pauses near to Rutland, but does not seem to see him.)
Rutland
(Lamely.) It is a sad happening – ahem – a sad happening. I am grieved, deeply grieved. I cannot tell you, Mrs. Chalmers, how grieved I am to have been compelled to be present at this – ahem – this unfortunate —
(Margaret withers him with a look and he awkwardly ceases.)
Margaret
After this, father, there is one thing I shall do —
Chalmers
(Interrupting.) Go to your lover, I suppose.
Margaret
(Coldly.) Have it that way if you choose.
Chalmers
And take him what you have stolen —
Starkweather
(Arousing suddenly from brown study.) But she hasn't them on her. She hasn't been out of the room. They are not in the room. Then where are they?
(During the following, Margaret goes to the door, which Dobleman opens. She forces Linda to go out and herself pauses in open door to listen.)
Hubbard
(Uttering an exclamation of enlightenment, going rapidly across to window at left and raising it.) It is not locked. It moves noiselessly. There's the explanation.
(To Starkweather.) While you were at the safe, with your back turned, she lifted the window, tossed the papers out to somebody waiting —
(He sticks head and shoulders out of window, peers down, then brings head and shoulders back.) – No; they are not there. Somebody was waiting for them.
Starkweather
But how should she know I had them? You had only just recovered them?
Hubbard
Didn't Knox know right away last night that I had taken them? I took the up-elevator instead of the down when I heard him running along the hall. Trust him to let her know what had happened. She was the only one who could recover them for him. Else why did she come here so immediately this morning? To steal the package, of course. And she had some one waiting outside. She tossed them out and closed the window —
(He closes window.) – You notice it makes no sound. – and sat down again – all while your back was turned.
Starkweather
Margaret, is this true?
Margaret
(Excitedly.) Yes, the window. Why didn't you think of it before? Of course, the window. He – somebody was waiting. They are gone now – miles and miles away. You will never get them. They are in his hands now. He will use them in his speech this afternoon. (Laughs wildly.)
(Suddenly changing her tone to mock meekness, subtle with defiance.) May I go – now?
(Nobody answers, and she makes exit.) (A moments pause, during which Starkweather, Chalmers, and Hubbard look at each other in stupefaction.)
Curtain
ACT IV
Scene. Same as Act I. It is half past one of same day. Curtain discloses Knox seated at right front and waiting. He is dejected in attitude.
(Margaret enters from right rear, and advances to him. He rises awkwardly and shakes hands. She is very calm and self-possessed.)
Margaret
I knew you would come. Strange that I had to send for you so soon after last night —
(With alarm and sudden change of manner.) What is the matter? You are sick. Your hand is cold.
(She warms it in both of her hands.)
Knox
It is flame or freeze with me.
(Smiling.) And I'd rather flame.
Margaret
(Becoming aware that she is warming his hand.)
Sit down and tell me what is the matter.
(Leading him by the hand she seats him, at the same time seating herself.)
Knox
(Abruptly.) After you left last night, Hubbard stole those documents back again.
Margaret
(Very matter-of-fact.) Yes; he was in your bedroom while I was there.
Knox
(Startled.) How do you know that? Anyway, he did not know who you were.
Margaret
Oh yes he did.
Knox
(Angrily.) And he has dared – ?
Margaret
Yes; not two hours ago. He announced the fact before my father, my mother, Connie, the servants, everybody.
Knox
(Rising to his feet and beginning to pace perturbedly up and down.) The cur!
Margaret
(Quietly.) I believe, among other things, I told him he was that myself.
(She laughs cynically.) Oh, it was a pretty family party, I assure you. Mother said she didn't believe it – but that was only hysteria. Of course she believes it – the worst. So does Connie – everybody.
Knox
(Stopping abruptly and looking at her horror-stricken.) You don't mean they charged – ?
Margaret
No; I don't mean that. I mean more. They didn't charge. They accepted it as a proven fact that I was guilty. That you were my – lover.
Knox
On that man's testimony?
Margaret
He had two witnesses in an adjoining room.
Knox
(Relieved.) All the better. They can testify to nothing more than the truth, and the truth is not serious. In our case it is good, for we renounced each other.
Margaret
You don't know these men. It is easy to guess that they have been well trained. They would swear to anything.
(She laughs bitterly.) They are my father's men, you know, his paid sleuth-hounds.
Knox
(Collapsing in chair, holding head in hands, and groaning.) How you must have suffered. What a terrible time, what a terrible time! I can see it all – before everybody – your nearest and dearest. Ah, I could not understand, after our parting last night, why you should have sent for me today. But now I know.
Margaret
No you don't, at all.
Knox
(Ignoring her and again beginning to pace back and forth, thinking on his feet.) What's the difference? I am ruined politically. Their scheme has worked out only too well. Gifford warned me, you warned me, everybody warned me. But I was a fool, blind – with a fool's folly. There is nothing left but you now.
(He pauses, and the light of a new thought irradiates his face.) Do you know, Margaret, I thank God it has happened as it has. What if my usefulness is destroyed? There will be other men – other leaders. I but make way for another. The cause of the people can never be lost. And though I am driven from the fight, I am driven to you. We are driven together. It is fate. Again I thank God for it.
(He approaches her and tries to clasp her in his arms, but she steps back.)
Margaret
(Smiling sadly.) Ah, now you flame. The tables are reversed. Last night it was I. We are fortunate that we choose diverse times for our moods – else there would be naught but one sweet melting mad disaster.
Knox
But it is not as if we had done this thing deliberately and selfishly. We have renounced. We have struggled against it until we were beaten. And now we are driven together, not by our doing but Fate's. After this affair this morning there is nothing for you but to come to me. And as for me, despite my best, I am finished. I have failed. As I told you, the papers are stolen. There will be no speech this afternoon.
Margaret
(Quietly.) Yes there will.
Knox
Impossible. I would make a triple fool of myself. I would be unable to substantiate my charges.
Margaret
You will substantiate them. What a chain of theft it is. My father steals from the people. The documents that prove his stealing are stolen by Gherst. Hubbard steals them from you and returns them to my father. And I steal them from my father and pass them back to you.
Knox
(Astounded.) You? – You? —
Margaret
Yes; this very morning. That was the cause of all the trouble. If I hadn't stolen them nothing would have happened. Hubbard had just returned them to my father.
Knox
(Profoundly touched.) And you did this for me – ?
Margaret
Dear man, I didn't do it for you. I wasn't brave enough. I should have given in. I don't mind confessing that I started to do it for you, but it soon grew so terrible that I was afraid. It grew so terrible that had it been for you alone I should have surrendered. But out of the terror of it all I caught a wider vision, and all that you said last night rose before me. And I knew that you were right. I thought of all the people, and of the little children. I did it for them, after all. You speak for them. I stole the papers so that you could use them in speaking for the people. Don't you see, dear man?
(Changing to angry recollection.) Do you know what they cost me? Do you know what was done to me, to-day, this morning, in my father's house? I was shamed, humiliated, as I would never have dreamed it possible. Do you know what they did to me? The servants were called in, and by them I was stripped before everybody – my family, Hubbard, the Reverend Mr. Rutland, the secretary, everybody.
Knox
(Stunned.) Stripped – you?
Margaret
Every stitch. My father commanded it
Knox
(Suddenly visioning the scene.) My God!
Margaret
(Recovering herself and speaking cynically, with a laugh at his shocked face.) No; it was not so bad as that. There was a screen.
(Knox appears somewhat relieved.) But it fell down in the midst of the struggle.
Knox
But in heaven's name why was this done to you?
Margaret
Searching for the lost letters. They knew I had taken them.
(Speaking gravely.)
So you see, I have earned those papers. And I have earned the right to say what shall be done with them. I shall give them to you, and you will use them in your speech this afternoon.
Knox
I don't want them.
Margaret
(Going to bell and ringing.) Oh yes you do. They are more valuable right now than anything else in the world.
Knox
(Shaking his head.) I wish it hadn't happened.
Margaret
(Returning to him, pausing by his chair, and caressing his hair.) What?
Knox
This morning – your recovering the letters. I had adjusted myself to their loss, and the loss of the fight, and the finding of – you.
(He reaches up, draws down her hand, and presses it to his lips.) So – give them back to your father.
(Margaret draws quickly away from him.) (Enter Man-servant at right rear.)
Margaret
Send Linda to me.
(Exit Man-servant.)
Knox
What are you doing?
Margaret
(Sitting down.) I am going to send Linda for them. They are still in my father's house, hidden, of all places, behind Lincoln's portrait. He will guard them safely, I know.
Knox
(With fervor.) Margaret! Margaret! Don't send for them. Let them go. I don't want them.
(Rising and going toward her impulsively.) (Margaret rises and retreats, holding him off.) I want you – you – you.
(He catches her hand and kisses it. She tears it away from him, but tenderly.)
Margaret
(Still retreating, roguishly and tenderly.) Dear, dear man, I love to see you so. But it cannot be.
(Looking anxiously toward right rear.) No, no, please, please sit down.
(Enter Linda from right rear. She is dressed for the street.)
Margaret
(Surprised.) Where are you going?
Linda
Tommy and the nurse and I were going down town. There is some shopping she wants to do.
Margaret
Very good. But go first to my father's house. Listen closely. In the library, behind the portrait of Lincoln – you know it? (Linda nods.)
You will find a packet of papers. It took me five seconds to put it there. It will take you no longer to get it. Let no one see you. Let it appear as though you had brought Tommy to see his grandmother and cheer her up. You know she is not feeling very well just now. After you get the papers, leave Tommy there and bring them immediately back to me. Step on a chair to the ledge of the bookcase, and reach behind the portrait. You should be back inside fifteen minutes. Take the car.
Linda
Tommy and the nurse are already in it, waiting for me.
Margaret
Be careful. Be quick.
(Linda nods to each instruction and makes exit.)
Knox
(Bursting out passionately.) This is madness. You are sacrificing yourself, and me. I don't want them. I want you. I am tired. What does anything matter except love? I have pursued ideals long enough. Now I want you.
Margaret
(Gravely.) Ah, there you have expressed the pith of it. You will now forsake ideals for me – (He attempts to interrupt.) No, no; not that I am less than an ideal. I have no silly vanity that way. But I want you to remain ideal, and you can only by going on – not by being turned back. Anybody can play the coward and assert they are fatigued. I could not love a coward. It was your strength that saved us last night. I could not have loved you as I do, now, had you been weak last night. You can only keep my love —
Knox
(Interrupting, bitterly.) By foregoing it – for an ideal. Margaret, what is the biggest thing in the world? Love. There is the greatest ideal of all.
Margaret
(Playfully.) Love of man and woman?
Knox
What else?
Margaret
(Gravely.) There is one thing greater – love of man for his fellowman.
Knox
Oh, how you turn my preachments back on me. It is a lesson. Nevermore shall I preach. Henceforth —
Margaret
Yes.
(Chalmers enters unobserved at left, pauses, and looks on.)
Knox
Henceforth I love. Listen.
Margaret
You are overwrought. It will pass, and you will see your path straight before you, and know that I am right. You cannot run away from the fight.
Knox
I can – and will. I want you, and you want me – the man's and woman's need for each other. Come, go with me – now. Let us snatch at happiness while we may.
(He arises, approaches her, and gets her hand in his. She becomes more complaisant, and, instead of repulsing him, is willing to listen and receive.) As I have said, the fight will go on just the same. Scores of men, better men, stronger men, than I, will rise to take my place. Why do I talk this way? Because I love you, love you, love you. Nothing else exists in all the world but love of you.
Margaret
(Melting and wavering.) Ah, you flame, you flame.
(Chalmers utters an inarticulate cry of rage and rushes forward at Knox)
(Margaret and Knox are startled by the cry and discover Chalmer's presence.)
Margaret
(Confronting Chalmers and thrusting him slightly back from Knox, and continuing to hold him off from Knox.) No, Tom, no dramatics, please. This excitement of yours is only automatic and conventional. You really don't mean it. You don't even feel it. You do it because it is expected of you and because it is your training. Besides, it is bad for your heart. Remember Dr. West's warning —
(Chalmers, making an unusually violent effort to get at Knox, suddenly staggers weakly back, signs of pain on his face, holding a hand convulsively clasped over his heart. Margaret catches him and supports him to a chair, into which he collapses.)
Chalmers
(Muttering weakly.) My heart! My heart!
Knox
(Approaching.) Can I do anything?
Margaret
(Calmly.) No; it is all right. He will be better presently.
(She is bending over Chalmers, her hand on his wrist, when suddenly, as a sign he is recovering, he violently flings her hand off and straightens up.)
Knox
(Undecidedly.) I shall go now.
Margaret
No. You will wait until Linda comes back. Besides, you can't run away from this and leave me alone to face it.
Knox
(Hurt, showing that he will stay.) I am not a coward.
Chalmers
(In a stifled voice that grows stronger.) Yes; wait I have a word for you.
(He pauses a moment, and when he speaks again his voice is all right.)
(Witheringly.) A nice specimen of a reformer, I must say. You, who babbled yesterday about theft. The most high, righteous and noble Ali Baba, who has come into the den of thieves and who is also a thief.
(Mimicking Margaret.) "Ah, you flame, you flame!"
(In his natural voice.) I should call you; you thief, you thief, you wife-stealer, you.
Margaret
(Coolly.) I should scarcely call it theft.
Chalmers
(Sneeringly.) Yes; I forgot. You mean it is not theft for him to take what already belongs to him.
Margaret
Not quite that – but in taking what has been freely offered to him.
Chalmers
You mean you have so forgotten your womanhood as to offer —
Margaret
Just that. Last night. And Mr. Knox did himself the honor of refusing me.
Knox
(Bursting forth.) You see, nothing else remains, Margaret.
Chalmers
(Twittingly.) Ah, "Margaret."
Knox
(Ignoring him.) The situation is intolerable.
Chalmers
(Emphatically). It is intolerable. Don't you think you had better leave this house? Every moment of your presence dishonors it.
Margaret
Don't talk of honor, Tom.
Chalmers
I make no excuses for myself. I fancy I never fooled you very much. But at any rate I never used my own house for such purposes.
Knox
(Springing at him.) You cur!
Margaret
(Interposing.) No; don't. His heart.
Chalmers
(Mimicking Margaret.) No dramatics, please.
Margaret
(Plaintively, looking from one man to the other.) Men are so strangely and wonderfully made. What am I to do with the pair of you? Why won't you reason together like rational human beings?
Chalmers
(Bitterly gay, rising to his feet.) Yes; let us come and reason together. Be rational. Sit down and talk it over like civilized humans. This is not the stone age. Be reassured, Mr. Knox. I won't brain you. Margaret —
(Indicating chair,) Sit down. Mr. Knox —
(Indicating chair.) Sit down.
(All three seat themselves, in a triangle.) Behold the problem – the ever ancient and ever young triangle of the playwright and the short story writer – two men and a woman.
Knox
True, and yet not true. The triangle is incomplete. Only one of the two men loves the woman.
Chalmers
Yes?
Knox
And I am that man.
Chalmers
I fancy you're right.
(Nodding his head.) But how about the woman?
Margaret
She loves one of the two men.
Knox
And what are you going to do about it?
Chalmers
(Judicially.) She has not yet indicated the man.
(Margaret is about to indicate Knox.) Be careful, Madge. Remember who is Tommy's father.
Margaret
Tom, honestly, remembering what the last years have been can you imagine that I love you?
Chalmers
I'm afraid I've not – er – not flamed sufficiently.
Margaret
You have possibly spoken nearer the truth than you dreamed. I married you, Tom, hoping great things of you. I hoped you would be a power for good —
Chalmers
Politics again. When will women learn they must leave politics alone?
Margaret
And also, I hoped for love. I knew you didn't love me when we married, but I hoped for it to come.
Chalmers
And – er – may I be permitted to ask if you loved me?
Margaret
No; but I hoped that, too, would come.
Chalmers
It was, then, all a mistake.
Margaret
Yes; yours, and mine, and my father's.
Knox
We have sat down to reason this out, and we get nowhere. Margaret and I love each other. Your triangle breaks.
Chalmers
It isn't a triangle after all. You forget Tommy.
Knox
(Petulantly.) Make it four-sided, then, but let us come to some conclusion.
Chalmers
(Reflecting.) Ah, it is more than that. There is a fifth side. There are the stolen letters which Madge has just this morning restolen from her father. Whatever settlement takes place, they must enter into it.
(Changing his tone.) Look here, Madge, I am a fool. Let us talk sensibly, you and Knox and I. Knox, you want my wife. You can have her – on one consideration. Madge, you want Knox. You can have him on one consideration, the same consideration. Give up the letters and we'll forget everything.
Margaret
Everything?
Chalmers
Everything. Forgive and forget You know.
Margaret
You will forgive my – I – this – this adultery?
Chalmers
(Doggedly.) I'll forgive anything for the letters. I've played fast and loose with you, Madge, and I fancy your playing fast and loose only evens things up. Return the letters and you can go with Knox quietly. I'll see to that. There won't be a breath of scandal. I'll give you a divorce. Or you can stay on with me if you want to. I don't care. What I want is the letters. Is it agreed?
(Margaret seems to hesitate.)
Knox
(Pleadingly.) Margaret.
Margaret
Chalmers
(Testily.) Am I not giving you each other? What more do you want? Tommy stays with me. If you want Tommy, then stay with me, but you must give up the letters.
Margaret
I shall not go with Mr. Knox. I shall not give up the letters. I shall remain with Tommy.
Chalmers
So far as I am concerned, Knox doesn't count in this. I want the letters and I want Tommy. If you don't give them up, I'll divorce you on statutory grounds, and no woman, so divorced, can keep her child. In any event, I shall keep Tommy.
Margaret
(Speaking steadily and positively.) Listen, Tom; and you, too, Howard. I have never for a moment entertained the thought of giving up the letters. I may have led you to think so, but I wanted to see just how low, you, Tom, could sink. I saw how low you – all of you – this morning sank. I have learned – much. Where is this fine honor, Tom, which put you on a man-killing rage a moment ago? You'll barter it all for a few scraps of paper, and forgive and forget adultery which does not exist —
(Chalmers laughs skeptically.) – though I know when I say it you will not believe me. At any rate, I shall not give up the letters. Not if you do take Tommy away from me. Not even for Tommy will I sacrifice all the people. As I told you this morning, there are two million Tommys, child-laborers all, who cannot be sacrificed for Tommy's sake or anybody's sake.
(Chalmers shrugs his shoulders and smiles in ridicule.)
Knox
Surely, Margaret, there is a way out for us. Give up the letters. What are they? – only scraps of paper. Why match them against happiness – our happiness?
Margaret
But as you told me yourself, those scraps of paper represent the happiness of millions of lives. It is not our happiness that is matched against some scraps of paper. It is our happiness against millions of lives – like ours. All these millions have hearts, and loves, and desires, just like ours.
Knox
But it is a great social and cosmic process. It does not depend on one man. Kill off, at this instant, every leader of the people, and the process will go on just the same. The people will come into their own. Theft will be unseated. It is destiny. It is the process. Nothing can stop it.
Margaret
But it can be retarded.
Knox
You and I are no more than straws in relation to it. We cannot stop it any more than straws can stop an ocean tide. We mean nothing – except to each other, and to each other we mean all the world.
Margaret
(Sadly and tenderly.) All the world and immortality thrown in.
Chalmers
(Breaking in.) Nice situation, sitting here and listening to a strange man woo my wife in terms of sociology and scientific slang.
(Both Margaret and Knox ignore him.)
Knox
Dear, I want you so.
Margaret
(Despairingly.) Oh! It is so hard to do right!
Knox
(Eagerly.) He wants the letters very badly. Give them up for Tommy. He will give Tommy for them.
Chalmers
No; emphatically no. If she wants Tommy she can stay on; but she must give up the letters. If she wants you she may go; but she must give up the letters.
Knox
(Pleading for a decision.) Margaret.
Margaret
Howard. Don't tempt me and press me. It is hard enough as it is.
Chalmers
(Standing up.) I've had enough of this. The thing must be settled, and I leave it to you, Knox. Go on with your love-making. But I won't be a witness to it. Perhaps I – er – retard the – er – the flame process. You two must make up your minds, and you can do it better without me. I am going to get a drink and settle my nerves. I'll be back in a minute.
(He moves toward exit to right.) She will yield, Knox. Be warm, be warm.
(Pausing in doorway.) Ah, you flame! Flame to some purpose. (Exit Chalmers.)
(Knox rests his head despairingly on his hand, and Margaret, pausing and looking at him sadly for a moment, crosses to him, stands beside him, and caresses his hair.)
Margaret
It is hard, I know, dear. And it is hard for me as well.
Knox
It is so unnecessary.
Margaret
No, it is necessary. What you said last night, when I was weak, was wise. We cannot steal from my child —
Knox
But if he gives you Tommy? Margaret
(Shaking her head.) Nor can we steal from any other woman's child – from all the children of all the women. And other things I heard you say, and you were right. We cannot live by ourselves alone. We are social animals. Our good and our ill – all is tied up with all humanity.
Knox
(Catching her hand and caressing it.) I do not follow you. I hear your voice, but I do not know a word you say. Because I am loving your voice – and you. I am so filled with love that there is no room for anything else. And you, who yesterday were so remote and unattainable, are so near and possible, so immediately possible. All you have to do is to say the word, one little word. Say it. – Say it.
(He carries her hand to his lips and holds it there.)
Margaret
(Wistfully.) I should like to. I should like to. But I can't.
Knox
You must.
Margaret
There are other and greater things that say must to me. Oh, my dear, have you forgotten them? Things you yourself have spoken to me – the great stinging things of the spirit, that are greater than you and I, greater even than our love.
Knox
I exhaust my arguments – but still I love you.
Margaret
And I love you for it.
(Chalmers enters from right, and sees Margaret still caressing Knox's hair.)
Chalmers
(With mild elation, touched with sarcasm.) Ah, I see you have taken my advice, and reached a decision.
(They do not answer. Margaret moves slowly away and seats herself.) (Knox remains with head bowed on hand.) No?
(Margaret shakes her head.) Well, I've thought it over, and I've changed my terms. Madge, go with Knox, take Tommy with you.
(Margaret wavers, but Knox, head bowed on hand, does not see her.) There will be no scandal. I'll give you a proper divorce. And you can have Tommy.
Knox
(Suddenly raising his head, joyfully, pleadingly.) Margaret!
(Margaret is swayed, but does not speak.)
Chalmers
You and I never hit it off together any too extraordinarily well, Madge; but I'm not altogether a bad sort. I am easy-going. I always have been easy-going. I'll make everything easy for you now. But you see the fix I am in. You love another man, and I simply must regain those letters. It is more important than you realize.
Margaret
(Incisively.) You make me realize how important those letters are.
Knox
Give him the letters, Margaret
Chalmers
So she hasn't turned them over to you yet?
Margaret
No; I still have them.
Knox
Give them to him.
Chalmers
Selling out for a petticoat. A pretty reformer.
Knox
(Proudly.)
A better lover.
Margaret
(To Chalmers.)
He is weak to-day. What of it? He was strong last night. He will win back his strength again. It is human to be weak. And in his very weakness now, I have my pride, for it is the weakness of love. God knows I have been weak, and I am not ashamed of it. It was the weakness of love. It is hard to stifle one's womanhood always with morality. (Quickly.)
But do not mistake, Tom. This of mine is no conventional morality. I do not care about nasty gossipy tongues and sensation-mongering sheets; nor do I care what any persons of all the persons I know, would say if I went away with Mr. Knox this instant. I would go, and go gladly and proudly with him, divorce or no divorce, scandal or scandal triple-fold – if – if no one else were hurt by what I did. (To Knox.)
Howard, I tell you that I would go with you now, in all willingness and joy, with May-time and the songs of all singing birds in my heart – were it not for the others. But there is a higher morality. We must not hurt those others. We dare not steal our happiness from them. The future belongs to them, and we must not, dare not, sacrifice that future nor give it in pledge for our own happiness. Last night I came to you. I was weak – yes; more than that – I was ignorant. I did not know, even as late as last night, the monstrous vileness, the consummate wickedness of present-day conditions. I learned that today, this morning, and now. I learned that the morality of the Church was a pretense. Far deeper than it, and vastly more powerful, was the morality of the dollar. My father, my family, my husband, were willing to condone what they believed was my adultery. And for what? For a few scraps of paper that to them represented only the privilege to plunder, the privilege to steal from the people.
