He is surprised and cannot understand._] You
won't see him; I tell you, you won't tell him. You've got no business
to. I hate you. I've hated you for months. I hate the sight of your
face. I've wanted to go, and now I'm going. You've got to go, do you
hear? You've got to get out--get out. [_Pushes him again._
WILL. [_Throwing her off;_ LAURA _staggers to armchair, rises, crosses
left._] What the hell is the use of fussing with a woman.
[_Exit._
LAURA. [_Hysterically._] I want to be happy, I'm going to be married,
I'm going to be happy.
[_Sinks down in exhausted state in front of trunk._
CURTAIN, SLOW.
ACT IV.
SCENE. _The same scene as Act III. It is about two o'clock in the
afternoon._
AT RISE. _When the curtain rises, there are two big trunks and one
small one up stage. These are marked in the usual theatrical fashion.
There are grips packed, umbrellas, and the usual paraphernalia that
accompanies a woman when she is making a permanent departure from
her place of living. All the bric-a-brac, &c., has been removed
from dresser. On down-stage end of dresser is a small alligator
bag containing night-dress, toilet articles, and bunch of keys.
The dresser drawers are some of them half open, and old pieces of
tissue-paper and ribbons are hanging out. The writing-desk has had all
materials removed and is open, showing scraps of torn-up letters, and
in one pigeon-hole is a New York Central time-table; between desk and
bay-window is a lady's hat-trunk containing huge picture hat.
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