(_far down, steps on stairs_)
HARRY: Claire, what _is_ this?
CLAIRE: Stop that phonograph or I'll--
HARRY: Why, of course I'll stop it. What--what is there to get so
excited about? Now--now just a minute, dear. It'll take a minute.
(CLAIRE _comes back upstairs, dragging steps, face ghastly. The amorous
song still comes up, and louder now that doors are open. She and_ TOM
_do not look at one another. Then, on a languorous swell the music comes
to a grating stop. They do not speak or move. Quick footsteps_--HARRY
_comes up_.)
HARRY: What in the world were you saying, Claire? Certainly you could
have asked me more quietly to turn off the Victrola. Though what harm
was it doing you--way up here? (_a sharp little sound from_ CLAIRE; _she
checks it, her hand over her mouth_. HARRY _looks from her to_ TOM)
Well, I think you two would better have had your dinner. Won't you come
down now and have some?
CLAIRE: (_only now taking her hand from her mouth_) Harry, tell him to
come up here--that insanity man. I--want to ask him something.
HARRY: 'Insanity man!' How absurd. He's a nerve specialist. There's a
vast difference.
CLAIRE: Is there? Anyway, ask him to come up here. Want to--ask him
something.
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