GRACE: Oh, Jack, I don’t know, I don’t know! She’s worried me so, I hate to be in the house with her, on account of the baby. She seemed strange when she got here, not like herself, but then she improved so much while she was going out with George—I was so relieved, I thought she was going to be all right! But he hasn’t called or come around in two weeks and she’s gotten steadily worse. You’ve been on the road so much you haven’t noticed but it’s been like living in a—I hate to say it!—in a cell with—

[The bathroom door is flung open. The lurid stains reappear on the walls.]

BLANCHE [Screaming]: Oh, you hate to say it! Yes, you hate to say it! What a soft heart you have, my sweet little sister! [She turns on Jack.] And you! And you!

JACK: All present and accounted for! What have I done, baby?

BLANCHE: You think that I don’t know?

JACK: Don’t know what?

BLANCHE: Well, I do! I’m not so insane I can’t figure out who told him!

JACK: Who is him, and told what?!

GRACE [despairingly]: I think she imagines that someone has—

[Blanche runs with a sobbing laugh back into the bathroom.] You see? That’s how it’s been here while you were out on the road!

JACK: Jesus.

GRACE: I always adored her so.

JACK: Well, she’s your sister, baby, but personally— Where’s my bowling shirt?

GRACE: She ironed it for you and hung it up in there.

JACK: She did?

GRACE: She still does nice little things like that now and then when you don’t expect it. That’s what makes it so hard to understand.

JACK: You know what I think but I’m not going to say it. [Crosses into downstage room and removes vivid green silk bowling shirt from hanger. On its back is emblem of firm he works for. He starts removing blue work shirt he has on.]

GRACE: No, don’t say it! And with my baby coming I don’t feel safe.

JACK: Well—

GRACE: Oh, honey. [She comes up and embraces him.] You’ve been sweet and patient and— Gosh! You need to shave.

JACK: I don’t want you to worry about anything. Blanche, can I get in the bathroom? It’s urgent!

[Blanche comes out, holding a towel.]

BLANCHE: I—I am sorry I—didn’t sleep well last night and—

JACK: Oh, that’s all right, Blanche. [He goes into bathroom and shuts door.]

BLANCHE [to Grace]: I know how awful I look, you don’t have to tell me.

GRACE: Why, I was just thinking how pretty you look today, Blanche.

BLANCHE: A likely story! Are you two going out?

GRACE: Jack’s going to bowl.