MARTHA--[Taking one of his hands in hers--gently.] You must make allowances for me. Curt, and forgive me. I AM getting old. No, it's the truth. I've reached the turning point. Will you listen to my side of it, Curt, and try to see it--with sympathy--with true understanding--[With a trace of bitterness.]--forgetting your work for the moment? CURTIS--[Miserably.] That's unfair, Martha. I think of it as OUR work--and I have always believed you did, too. MARTHA--[Quickly.] I did, Curt! I do! All in the past is our work. It's my greatest pride to think so. But, Curt, I'll have to confess frankly--during the past two years I've felt myself--feeling as if I wasn't complete--with that alone. CURTIS--Martha! [Bitterly.] And all the time I believed that more and more it was becoming the aim of your life, too. MARTHA--[With a sad smile.] I'm glad of that, dear. I tried my best to conceal it from you. It would have been so unfair to let you guess while we were still in harness. But oh, how I kept looking forward to the time when we would come back--and rest--in our own home! You know--you said that was your plan--to stay here and write your books--and I was hoping-- CURTIS--[With a gesture of aversion.] I loathe this book-writing. It isn't my part, I realize now. But when I made the plans you speak of, how could I know that then? MARTHA--[Decisively.] You've got to go. I won't try to stop you. I'll help all in my power--as I've always done. Only--I can't go with you any more. And you must help me--to do my work--by understanding it. [He is silent, frowning, his face agitated, preoccupied. She goes on intensely.] Oh, Curt, I wish I could tell you what I feel, make you feel with me the longing for a child. If you had just the tiniest bit of feminine in you--! [Forcing a smile.] But you're so utterly masculine, dear! That's what has made me love you, I suppose--so I've no right to complain of it. [Intensely.] I don't. I wouldn't have you changed one bit! I love you! And I love the things you love--your work--because it's a part of you. And that's what I want you to do--to reciprocate--to love the creator in me--to desire that I, too, should complete myself with the thing nearest my heart! CURTIS--[Intensely preoccupied with his own struggle--vaguely.] But I thought--