No; you didn’t know. We don’t know. When you think what a writer might do for life--for we _don’t_ know. You write so well, Craig, but--what of it? What is it is the matter with you--with all you American writers--’most all of you. A well-put-up light--but it doesn’t penetrate anything. It never makes the fog part. Just shows itself off--a well-put-up light. [_Growing angry._] It would be better if we didn’t have you at all! Can’t you see that it would? Lights which--only light themselves keep us from having light--from knowing what the darkness is. [_After thinking._] Craig, as you write these things are there never times when you sit there _dumb_ and know that you are glib and empty? CRAIG Did you ever try to write, Margaret? MARGARET No. CRAIG I suppose you think it’s very simple to be real. I suppose you think we could do it--if we just wanted to do it. Try it. You try. MARGARET So you do this just to cover the fact that you _can’t_ do anything? Your skill--a mask for your lack of power? CRAIG I should think you’d want to be good to me tonight, Margaret. MARGARET Be good to you! Keep you from seeing. That’s the way we’re good to each other. There’s only one thing I could do for you tonight, Craig. You don’t want that. So-- [_Moves as if to rise._ CRAIG No, don’t go away. My brain won’t keep still either. What I think is just as bad as what you say. Well, why do you think it is I--miss things--never get anywhere? MARGARET I don’t know. And it’s true of all of us. Of me too. I do things that to me seem important, and yet I just do _them_--I don’t get to the thing I’m doing them for--to life itself. I don’t simply and profoundly get to _life_. Bernice did. CRAIG Yes. Bernice did. MARGARET And yet you had to--shy away from Bernice. Into a smaller world that could be all your world. No, Craig, you haven’t power. It’s true. And for one hour in our lives let’s try to--Those love affairs of yours--they’re like your false writing--to keep yourself from knowing you haven’t power. Did you ever see a child try to do a thing--fail--then turn to something he could do and make a great show of doing that? That’s what most of our lives are like. CRAIG [_Rudely._] Well, why _haven’t_ I power? If you are going to be any good to me--tell me that. MARGARET [_Shaking her head._] I can’t tell you that. I haven’t any light that--goes there. But isn’t it true? Isn’t your life this long attempt to appear effective--to persuade yourself that you _are_ something? What a way to spend the little time there is for living. CRAIG I fancy it’s the way most lives are spent. MARGARET That only makes it infinitely sadder. CRAIG [_As if he can stay in this no longer._] As to writing, Margaret, the things that interest you wouldn’t interest most people. MARGARET