FullReads

She takes the coffee and sips it.

ISABEL.
Tell me–how did you know?

MRS. FALCINGTON.
( smiling )

Private detectives.

ISABEL.
( a little shocked )

Oh!

MRS. FALCINGTON.
Please don’t misunderstand me.
I’m not going to make any trouble….
But I did want to know what became of him.

ISABEL.
Yes … naturally.

MRS. FALCINGTON.
And then–you see, I wanted to know what you were like; and–and whether he was happy with you. I don’t think detectives are very intelligent. They couldn’t get it into their heads that I wanted the truth. They gave me a–a very lurid account of–of you. And of course Harold’s letters gave me no help. So I came down to see for myself.

ISABEL.
( rising )

Mrs. Falcington: here is a letter that Harold was writing this morning. It tells about me–and I fancy you won’t find it so essentially different from the detectives’ account. Read it and see.

MRS. FALCINGTON.
( reading the letter )

He says he loves you.

ISABEL.
In those words?

MRS. FALCINGTON.
No–he says he is involved in a strange and sudden infatuation.
But it means the same thing.

ISABEL.
No it doesn’t. He isn’t in love with me.
I’ll tell you straight–he’s in love with you.

MRS. FALCINGTON.
How do you know?

ISABEL.
From the letters he wrote you.

MRS. FALCINGTON.
Oh! he showed them to you, did he? How like him!

ISABEL.
But he is in love with you.
And he isn’t happy with me.

MRS. FALCINGTON.
Why not?

ISABEL.
He hates this kind of life. He wants order, regularity,
stability, comfort, ease, the respect of the community—-

MRS. FALCINGTON.
He used to tell me all those things bored him to death.

ISABEL.
( pleading )

You must take him back!

MRS. FALCINGTON.
Don’t you want him?

ISABEL
. Well

–( she laughs in embarrassment )
–Not that bad!

MRS. FALCINGTON.
His father will make him an allowance to live on.

ISABEL.
I’ve told him I would never speak to him again if he took it.

MRS. FALCINGTON.
You don’t expect him to work, do you?

ISABEL.
Yes–if he has anything to do with me.

MRS. FALCINGTON.
Then if you can make him do that,
by all means take charge of his destinies!

ISABEL.
But–but–that’s not the point. He loves you.
He wants to go back. He didn’t do any of those
things he was accused of, you know.

MRS. FALCINGTON.
Did he tell you that?

ISABEL.
Yes.

MRS. FALCINGTON.
Well–he told a story.

( Isabel is shocked.)
Oh, there’s no doubt about it.

( Her tone leaves none.)

ISABEL.
But she was ugly!

MRS. FALCINGTON.
Did he tell you that?

ISABEL.
Yes! Wasn’t she?

MRS. FALCINGTON.
There are handsome poetesses–a few–and this
was one of them. She is one of the most beautiful women in Chicago.