anyone who so hated those times, Laura, I
must say ...

LAURA. [_Positively._] They were good times.--Except that you
wouldn't have me.

KEN. I was an idiot.

LAURA. Such a charming idiot.

MARTIN. Looks as if you maybe like that fellow.

LAURA. Mm. A little bit.

KEN. She won't admit it, but she likes me a lot.

MARTIN. I'll be hanged if I see why.

LAURA. It's a mystery to me, too.

TIPPY. And after all this time!

LAURA. It's queer, isn't it? Often I look at him and I say why, out
of all the millions of men--handsome men, brilliant men, wealthy
men--did I fall in love with him?

MARTIN. And when you might have had me!

TIPPY. [_With a terrible yowl._] Oh, sweet mystery of life ...

KEN. My God!

TIPPY. I won't even ask how things are! You look so damned all
right.

LAURA. On two salaries and no babies, who wouldn't? May I lend you
the price of a rented Tuxedo so you can come to dinner without
embarrassing our butler?

KEN. Yeah--when we get the bedroom set paid for we're going to
exchange the radio for a Cadillac.

LAURA. Oh, Martin! If you have any original drawings unsold, just
name your price. All we have on the walls now is the Horse Fair and
the Last Supper. But mind you--art only, no propaganda.

MARTIN. I'll do a charcoal of the Palisades for you.

LAURA. I forbid it. They're an invitation to suicide.

TIPPY. He'll draw the Palisades from the bottom looking up. That's
an invitation to climb.

KEN. There's a lot in the point of view!

LAURA. Good! Climbing is much more fun than jumping off!

KEN. All one needs is a toehold to get started.

TIPPY. I say, Ken, so you feel really started now?

KEN. I sure do.

TIPPY. That's great!

MARTIN. When you get to the top, don't push anyone off.

TIPPY. There is plenty of room on top of the Palisades.

MARTIN. You've stacked the analogy on me. Most mountains don't have
flat tops.

KEN. Ah, hell, Martin, you're just being stubborn. Kate showed us
your drawing in the _New Yorker_.

LAURA. We liked it a lot.

KEN. That's your toehold. When you've sold them six you'll be back
to pink socialism. And soon you'll be mailing things to the
_Saturday Evening Post_--and signing them!

LAURA. Don't rub it in, dear.

KEN. I'm not rubbing it in. I was once as radical as Martin.

TIPPY. Ken, Ken--don't exaggerate. As an architect, you must keep
your perspective.

KEN. I was ready to go to Russia, wasn't I?

MARTIN. Oh yeah!

KEN. I