Tem-per-a--(TOM _is not getting it_)
Oh--well, what can you do when a man don't _get_ a thing? (TOM _seems to
be preparing the revolver for action_. HARRY _pounds on the inner door_)
Claire! Do you want Tom to shoot himself?
(_As he looks in there, the trap-door lifts, and CLAIRE comes half-way
up._)
CLAIRE: Why, what is Tom doing out there, with a revolver?
HARRY: He is about to shoot himself because you've locked him out from
his breakfast.
CLAIRE: He must know more interesting ways of destroying himself.
(_bowing to_ TOM) Good morning. (_from his side of the glass_ TOM _bows
and smiles back_) Isn't it strange--our being in here--and he being out
there?
HARRY: Claire, have you no ideas of hospitality? Let him in!
CLAIRE: In? Perhaps that isn't hospitality.
HARRY: Well, whatever hospitality is, what is out there is snow--and
wind--and our guest--who was asked to come here for his breakfast. To
think a man has to _such_ things.
CLAIRE: I'm going to let him in. Though I like his looks out there.
(_she takes the key from her pocket_)
HARRY: Thank heaven the door's coming open. Somebody can go for salt,
and we can have our eggs.
CLAIRE: And open the door again--to let the salt in? No.
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