Such a lovely sunset, dear.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [she leaves her work and joins her sister.
The two stand holding each other's hands, looking out]. Beautiful!
[A silence. The sun is streaming full into the room.] You--you
don't think, dear, that this room--[she looks round it]--may possibly
be a little TOO sunny to quite suit her?
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [not at first understanding]. How, dear,
TOO sun--[She grasps the meaning.] You mean--you think that perhaps
she does that sort of thing?
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Well, dear, one is always given to
understand that they do, women--ladies of her profession.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It seems to me so wicked: painting God's
work.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We mustn't judge hardly, dear. Besides,
dear, we don't know yet that she does.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Perhaps she's young, and hasn't commenced
it. I fancy it's only the older ones that do it.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He didn't mention her age, I remember.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. No, dear, but I feel she's young.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I do hope she is. We may be able to
mould her.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We must be very sympathetic. One can
accomplish so much with sympathy.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We must get to understand her. [A
sudden thought.] Perhaps, dear, we may get to like her.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [doubtful]. We might TRY, dear.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25