HOLDEN: Yes; and with my wife's physician. If you sell your soul--it's
to love you sell it.
MADELINE: (_low_) That's strange. It's love that--brings life along, and
then it's love--holds life back.
HOLDEN: (_and all the time with this effort against hopelessness_)
Leaving me out of it, I'd like to see you give yourself a little more
chance for detachment. You need a better intellectual equipment if
you're going to fight the world you find yourself in. I think you will
count for more if you wait, and when you strike, strike more maturely.
MADELINE: Detachment. (_pause_) This is one thing they do at this place.
(_she moves to the open door_) Chain them up to the bars--just like
this. (_in the doorway where her two grandfathers once pledged faith
with the dreams of a million years, she raises clasped hands as high as
they will go_) Eight hours a day--day after day. Just hold your arms up
like this one hour then sit down and think about--(_as if tortured by
all who have been so tortured, her body begins to give with sobs, arms
drop, the last word is a sob_) detachment.
HOLDEN _is standing helplessly by when her father comes in_.
IRA: (_wildly_) Don't cry. No! Not in this house! I can't--Your aunt and
uncle will fix it up.
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