[MARTHA, struggling with herself, does not answer. LILY goes on
slowly.] You won't want to tag along with Curt to the ends of the
earth forever, will you? [Curiously.] Wasn't that queer life like
any other? I mean, didn't it get to pall on you?

MARTHA--[As if confessing it reluctantly.] Yes--perhaps--in the
last two years.

LILY--[Decisively.] It's time for both of you to rest on your
laurels. Why can't Curt keep on with what he's doing now--stay
home and write his books?

MARTHA--Curt isn't that kind. The actual work--the romance of it--
that's his life.

LILY--But if he goes and you have to stay, you'll be lonesome--
[meaningly] alone.

MARTHA--Horribly. I don't know what I'll do.

LILY--Then why--why? Think, Martha. If Curt knew--that was to
happen--he'd want to stay here with you. I'm sure he would.

MARTHA--[Shaking her head sadly.] No. Curt has grown to dislike
children. They remind him of--ours that were taken. He adored
them so--he's never become reconciled.

LILY--If you confronted Curt with the actual fact, he'd be
reconciled soon enough, and happy in the bargain.