(_But she waits before that door, a door hard to go through. Alone_, EMIL _looks around the room. Sees the bag of corn, takes a couple of ears and is looking at them as_ MADELINE _returns. She remains by the door, shaken with sobs, turns, as if pulled back to the pain she has left_.) EMIL: Gee. This is great corn. MADELINE: (_turning now to him_) It is, isn't it, Emil? EMIL: None like it. MADELINE: And you say--your corn is getting better? EMIL: Oh, yes--I raise better corn every year now. MADELINE: (_low_) That's nice. I'll be right out, Emil. (_He puts the corn back, goes out. From the closet_ MADELINE _takes her hat and wrap. Putting them on, she sees the tennis racket on the table. She goes to it, takes it up, holds it a moment, then takes it to the closet, puts it carefully away, closes the door behind it. A moment she stands there in the room, as if listening to something. Then she leaves that house_.) CURTAIN End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Plays, by Susan Glaspell