Nonsense, dear. Think of grilled trout caught by my own hand! And then the long lazy silent hours afterwards with Aristotle. Nice chap, Aristotle: knew a heap about men and things, though he lived in an age when there wasn’t so much to remember as there is now. Then afterwards I confess I yawned with the comfort of it all; good, deep-reaching yawns, as Nature intended. I went out to see my friends the stars. Best friends a man ever had: a bit cold and distant, perhaps; but always there behind the clouds. (_She has risen and gone to the candles. There is a pause. Then she snuffs them out._) And I suppose at the same time you were trying in vain to find them out your city window? (_Sees she is sobbing very quietly: the candles are out._) Why, dear! What’s the trouble? MRS. RAY Oh, I can’t pretend any more. Our log fire isn’t real. Here we are all alone in a hotel apartment--before an old steam radiator and electric light. (_Presses the switch again._) PROFESSOR (_Tenderly and seriously_) I know. You left all that which might have been yours ... if ... if you hadn’t married me. MRS. RAY And you--without me and the children--you might have had your dream now. PROFESSOR (_Very seriously_) No, dear. One never can realize them: that’s why they are called dreams. MRS. RAY (_Goes to him looking up into his face_) You know, I wouldn’t have given up one hour of my life with you. PROFESSOR (_Stroking her hair tenderly_) We have been very happy. MRS. RAY Yet why is there something we both feel we have missed? PROFESSOR Because even the happy must be incomplete or else they would cease to be happy. Isn’t happiness hope as much as realization? We have realized--not ourselves completely--yet through each other. We have been what the other sought. But only the very wise know that there is an inner life no one can be part of: a lonely place where even the dearest can not enter, because it is a lonely place. MRS. RAY Yes. I think that is the way it is with me, dear. PROFESSOR And the way it is with our house we shall never build. We can’t enter it _together_. MRS. RAY (_Looking before her_) Yet I can still see my house. PROFESSOR As clearly as I do mine. (_Looking whimsically over at the smoking candles._) Even though our own log fire is burned out. MRS. RAY (_Smiling_) It’s changed somewhat these forty years. PROFESSOR Yes. That’s the way dream-houses have. (_Taking her hand._) And, dear one, when we each think of our houses we can never build, let’s--let’s always go on holding each other’s hand, eh? MRS. RAY Dearest.... PROFESSOR So many people lose each other when they dream. (_He kisses her tenderly._) [CURTAIN] [F] Copyright by George Middleton. See back of title page. ON THE HIRING LINE Comedy in 3 acts, by Harvey O’Higgins and Harriet Ford. 5 males, 4 females. Interior throughout. Costumes, modern. Plays 2½ hours.