HARRY: I think so too. ADELAIDE: This sober business of growing plants-- CLAIRE: Not sober--it's mad. ADELAIDE: All the more reason for quitting it. CLAIRE: But madness that is the only chance for sanity. ADELAIDE: Come, come, now--let's not juggle words. CLAIRE: (_springing up_) How dare you say that to me, Adelaide. You who are such a liar and thief and whore with words! ADELAIDE: (_facing her, furious_) How _dare_ you-- HARRY: Of course not, Claire. You have the most preposterous way of using words. CLAIRE: I respect words. ADELAIDE: Well, you'll please respect me enough not to dare use certain words to me! CLAIRE: Yes, I do dare. I'm tired of what you do--you and all of you. Life--experience--values--calm--sensitive words which raise their heads as indications. And you _pull them up_--to decorate your stagnant little minds--and think that makes you--And because you have pulled that word from the life that grew it you won't let one who's honest, and aware, and troubled, try to reach through to--to what she doesn't know is there, (_she is moved, excited, as if a cruel thing has been done_) Why did you come here? ADELAIDE: To try and help you. But I begin to fear I can't do it. It's pretty egotistical to claim that what so many people are, is wrong. (_CLAIRE, after looking intently at ADELAIDE, slowly, smiling a little, describes a circle. With deftly used hands makes a quick vicious break in the circle which is there in the air._) HARRY: (_going to her, taking her hands_) It's getting close to dinner-time. You were thinking of something else, Claire, when I told you Charlie Emmons was coming to dinner to-night, (_answering her look_) Sure--he is a neurologist, and I want him to see you. I'm perfectly honest with you--cards all on the table, you know that. I'm hoping if you like him--and he's the best scout in the world, that he can help you. (_talking hurriedly against the stillness which follows her look from him to ADELAIDE, where she sees between them an 'understanding' about her_) Sure you need help, Claire. Your nerves are a little on the blink--from all you've been doing. No use making a mystery of it--or a tragedy. Emmons is a cracker-jack, and naturally I want you to get a move on yourself and be happy again. CLAIRE: (_who has gone over to the window_) And this neurologist can make me happy? HARRY: Can make you well--and then you'll be happy. ADELAIDE: (_in the voice of now fixing it all up_) And I had just an idea about Elizabeth. Instead of working with mere plants, why not think of Elizabeth as a plant and-- (CLAIRE, _who has been looking out of the window, now throws open one of the panes that swings out--or seems to, and calls down in great excitement._) CLAIRE: Tom! _Tom!_ Quick! Up here! I'm in trouble! HARRY: (_going to the window_) That's a rotten thing to do, Claire! You've frightened him. CLAIRE: Yes, how fast he can run. He was deep in thought and I stabbed right through.