ck-book and pen.]

LINDKVIST. Make it on yourself or an order--

ELIS. Even then it won't be enough.

LINDKVIST. Then you must go out and borrow the rest. Every penny must be
paid.

ELIS [Handing check to Lindkvist]. There--everything I have.--That is my
summer and my, bride. I haven't anything else to give you.

LINDKVIST. Then you must go out and borrow, as I said.

ELIS. I can't do it.

LINDKVIST. Then you must get security.

ELIS. No one would give security to a Heyst.

LINDKVIST. So. Then I'll propose an alternative. Thank Peter, or you
will have to come up with the whole sum.

ELIS. I won't have anything to do with Peter.

LINDKVIST. Then you are the most miserable creature that I have ever
known. You can by a simple courtesy save your mother's dwelling and your
fiancee's happiness, and you won't do it. There must be some motive that
you won't come out with. Why do you hate Peter?

ELIS. Put me to death--but don't torture me any longer.

LINDKVIST. Are you jealous of him?

[Elis shrugs his shoulders.]

LINDKVIST. So--that's the way things stand. [Rises and walks up and
down.] Did you read the evening paper?

ELIS. Yes, more is the pity!

LINDKVIST. All of it?

ELIS. No, not all.

LINDKVIST. No? Then you didn't read of Peter's engagement?

ELIS. No. That I did not know about.

LINDKVIST. And to whom do you think?

ELIS. To whom?

LINDKVIST. Why, he is engaged to Miss Alice, and it was made known at a
certain recital, where your fiancee helped spread the glad news.

ELIS. Why should it have been such a secret?

LINDKVIST. Haven't two young people the right to keep their hearts'
secrets from you?

ELIS. And on account of their happiness I had to suffer this agony!

LINDKVIST. Yes, just as others have suffered for your happiness--your
mother, your father, your fiancee, your sister, your friends. Sit down
and I'll tell you a little story.

[Elis sits, against his will, through this scene and the following. It
is clearing outside.]

LINDKVIST. It's about forty years since I came to this town, as a boy,
you understand--alone, unknown, without even one acquaintance, to seek
a position. All I owned was one silver dollar. The night that I arrived
was a dark, rainy one. As I didn't know of any cheap hotel, I asked
the passers-by about one, but no one stopped to answer. Took me for a
beggar, most likely. When I was at the height of my despair, a young man
came up and asked me why I was c