PATCH : I mean it’s curtains for him, Mike! It’s curtains for the Gentleman!
[
Mike shrinks, horrified, back into dark doorway as the Patch starts slowly around the corner and the curtains close
.]
THE END
IN OUR PROFESSION
CHARACTERS
ANNABELLE
RICHARD
PAUL
Discovered: Bachelor’s apartment in large city. Tastefully furnished, lighted by single table-lamp. Rear door opens, attractive young woman emerges, followed in a few moments by a young man. She seats herself on sofa and looks at him solemnly as he lights their cigarettes
.
ANNABELLE : Would you be willing to marry me?
RICHARD : No, of course not.
ANNABELLE : Then what did you bring me here for?
RICHARD : You came of your own accord.
ANNABELLE : How can you be so—
RICHARD : What?
ANNABELLE : Brutal!
RICHARD : Did you ever know a man that wasn’t?
ANNABELLE : Oh, I guess not. —But I do keep hoping to meet one.
RICHARD : I didn’t know an actress could be so naïve.
ANNABELLE : Richard.
RICHARD : Yes?
ANNABELLE : Darling.
RICHARD : Yes?
ANNABELLE : Let’s be honest with each other. Let’s not play any games.
RICHARD : That’s up to you.
ANNABELLE : Do you think I’m dishonest?
RICHARD : It’s all right. I never expect honesty of a woman in your profession.
ANNABELLE : Why not?
RICHARD : It’s the redeeming virtue of a bad amateur.
ANNABELLE : You’re cynical. I wish you weren’t. It makes me feel as though I can’t touch you at all.
RICHARD : That’s funny. I thought we were fairly close to each other.
ANNABELLE : Physically, yes. But that’s not everything. Richard, I’m not like you. I can’t separate my emotions from my physical actions.
RICHARD : Mmmm. Would you like to hear my new record of Kirsten Flagstad?
ANNABELLE : No.
RICHARD : How about Stravinsky’s
Sacre du Printemps?
ANNABELLE : No! I don’t want to hear any records! It’s funny, I’ve never known a man yet that didn’t turn on the radio or the Victrola or go to the bathroom when a woman tries to make him talk seriously about something!
RICHARD : Listen, Kitty!
ANNABELLE : Don’t call me Kitty!
RICHARD : Catharine—
ANNABELLE : Yes?
RICHARD : How long have we known each other? Forty-eight hours! It’s absurd to suppose that anything really important has happened between us in such a short time.
ANNABELLE : In our profession, Richard, people have to catch at things very quickly or they get away from us. Living on the road makes you accelerate all your emotions. Everything is speeded up. But that doesn’t always prevent it from being completely sincere.
RICHARD : What are you leading up to?
ANNABELLE : I’m simply telling you that I love you, Richard.
RICHARD : Yes, of course you do.
ANNABELLE : Oh, I know it doesn’t usually mean anything whenan actress says that, especially when— When she’s the kind of a girl that you think I am. But the difference between girls of my sort and other girls is just a difference of experience, Richard. We’re the same underneath. We want the same thing. We have exactly the same ideals and desires and—oh , Richard, I know that you have dates with debutantes and rich men’s daughters—men of your sort always do—probably you’re going to marry one of them sooner or later. But she won’t make you as happy as I would, Richard. [
He rises
.] Where are you going? To the bathroom?
RICHARD [
raising the window
]: We need some air. [
The glare of acetylene torches is seen through lace curtains
.]
ANNABELLE : What makes that horrible blue light?
RICHARD : Acetylene torches. They’re repairing the tracks.
ANNABELLE : It’s hideous. It gets on my nerves. It reminds of the life that I’m leading. Loud, crazy, glaring, senseless, stupid! [
She springs up and pulls down the shade
.] Richard, the show leaves tomorrow. I can’t go on with the show. I’m sick of it. It’s like being tied to the tail of a run-away horse. One town and the next and the next. It’s been going on like that for