[DOROTHY goes to the door and removes the sign, taking out the thumbtacks with a nail file. She hands it to ANITA]

DOROTHY. You keep it. Here are the thumbtacks too.

[DOROTHY goes to the electric light and switches it off. Then opens both the windows. There is a sound like a giant banjo twang and an incoming rush like an elevated train or a subway train coming toward you. Then a third great crash, this time followed by a shower of glass]

MOORISH TART. You good comrade.

DOROTHY. No. I’m not, but I would like to be.

MOORISH TART. You O.K. with me.

[They are standing side by side in the light that comes in from the open door into the corridor]

PHILIP. Having them open saved them from the concussion that time. You can hear the shells leave the battery. Listen for the next one.

PRESTON. I hate these damned night shellings.

DOROTHY. How long did the last one go on?

PHILIP. Just over an hour.

MOORISH TART. Dorothy, you think we better go in cave?

[There is another banjo twang—a moment of quiet and then a great incoming rush, this time much closer, and at the crashing burst, the room fills with smoke and brick dust]

PRESTON. The hell with it. I’m going down below.

PHILIP. This room has an excellent angle, really. I mean it. I could show you from the street.

DOROTHY. I think I’ll just stay here. It doesn’t make any difference where you wait for it.

ELECTRICAN. Camaradas, no hay luz!

[He says this in a loud and almost prophetic voice, suddenly standing up and opening his arms wide]

PHILIP. He says there isn’t any light. You know the old boy is getting to be rather terrific. Like an electrical Greek chorus. Or a Greek electrical chorus.

PRESTON. I’m going to get out of here.

DOROTHY. Then, darling, will you take Anita and the electrician with you?

PRESTON. Come on.

[They go as the next shell comes. The next shell is really something]

DOROTHY. [As they stand listening to the clattering of the brick and glass after the burst] Philip, is the angle really safe?

PHILIP. It’s as good here as anywhere. Really. Safe’s not quite the word; but safety’s hardly a thing people go in for any more.

DOROTHY. I feel safe with you.

PHILIP. Try to check that. That’s a terrible phrase.

DOROTHY. But I can’t help it.

PHILIP. Try very hard. That’s a good girl.

[He goes to the phonograph and puts on the Chopin Mazurka in C Minor, Opus 33, No. 4. They are listening to the music in the light from the glow of the electric heater]

PHILIP. It’s very thin and very old fashioned, but it’s very beautiful.