To hear her go on sometimes, you’d think she was the Movement.

LARRY

Stares at him, puzzled and repelled—sharply.

That’s a hell of a way for you to talk, after what happened to her!

PARRITT

At once confused and guilty.

Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t sneering, Larry. Only kidding. I’ve said the same thing to her lots of times to kid her. But you’re right. I know I shouldn’t now. I keep forgetting she’s in jail. It doesn’t seem real. I can’t believe it about her. She’s always been so free. I—But I don’t want to think of it.

LARRY is moved to a puzzled pity in spite of himself. parritt changes the subject.

What have you been doing all the years since you left—the Coast, Larry?

LARRY

Sardonically.

Nothing I could help doing. If I don’t believe in the Movement, I don’t believe in anything else either, especially not the State. I’ve refused to become a useful member of its society. I’ve been a philosophical drunken bum, and proud of it.

Abruptly his tone sharpens with resentful warning.

Listen to me. I hope you’ve deduced that I’ve my own reason for answering the impertinent questions of a stranger, for that’s all you are to me. I have a strong hunch you’ve come here expecting something of me. I’m warning you, at the start, so there’ll be no misunderstanding, that I’ve nothing left to give, and I want to be left alone, and I’ll thank you to keep your life to yourself. I feel you’re looking for some answer to something. I have no answer to give anyone, not even myself. Unless you can call what Heine wrote in his poem to morphine an answer.

He quotes a translation of the closing couplet sardonically.

“Lo, sleep is good; better is death; in sooth,

The best of all were never to be born.”

PARRITT

Shrinks a bit frightenedly.

That’s the hell of an answer.

Then a forced grin of bravado.

Still, you never know when it might come in handy.

He looks away. larry stares at him puzzledly, interested in spite of himself and at the same time vaguely uneasy.

LARRY

Forcing a casual tone.

I don’t suppose you’ve had much chance to hear news of your mother since she’s been in jail?

PARRITT

No. No chance.

He hesitates—then blurts out.

Anyway, I don’t think she wants to hear from me. We had a fight just before that business happened. She bawled me out because I was going around with tarts. That got my goat, coming from her. I told her, “You’ve always acted the free woman, you’ve never let anything stop you from—”

He checks himself—goes on hurriedly.

That made her sore. She said she wouldn’t give a damn what I did except she’d begun to suspect I was too interested in outside things and losing interest in the Movement.

LARRY

Stares at him. And were you?

PARRITT

Hesitates—then with intensity.

Sure I was! I’m no damned fool! I couldn’t go on believing forever that gang was going to change the world by shooting off their loud traps on soapboxes and sneaking around blowing up a lousy building or a bridge! I got wise it was all a crazy pipe dream!

Appealingly.

The same as you did, Larry. That’s why I came to you.