hard for any of you back here to realize that Curt and I ever had
any children.

BIGELOW--[After a pause.] How old were they when--?

MARTHA--Three years and two--both girls. [She goes on sadly.] We
had a nice little house in Goldfield. [Forcing a smile.] We were
very respectable home folks then. The wandering came later, after--
It was a Sunday in winter when Curt and I had gone visiting some
friends. The nurse girl fell asleep--or something--and the
children sneaked out in their underclothes and played in the snow.
Pneumonia set in--and a week later they were both dead.

BIGELOW--[Shocked.] Good heavens!

MARTHA--We were real lunatics for a time. And then when we'd
calmed down enough to realize--how things stood with us--we swore
we'd never have children again--to steal away their memory. It
wasn't what you thought--romanticism--that set Curt wandering--
and me with him. It was a longing to lose ourselves--to forget. He
flung himself with all his power into every new study that
interested him. He couldn't keep still, mentally or bodily--and I
followed. He needed me--then--so dreadfully!

BIGELOW--And is it that keeps driving him on now?

MARTHA--Oh, no. He's found himself. His work has taken the place
of the children.

BIGELOW--And with you, too?