JAMES: No.

MRS. CALLIFER: I lost her at the barrier. I’m sorry, James, interrupting—

JAMES: No, we’ve finished. Quite finished. This is Dr. Kreuzer, Mother.

They shake hands.

MRS. CALLIFER: He’s not ill, is he, Dr. Kreuzer?

JAMES: He’s not that kind of doctor. He makes me talk, that’s all.

MRS. CALLIFER: Is that supposed to be a good thing nowadays?

KREUZER (picking up his case): Your generation believed in letting sleeping dogs lie, Mrs. Callifer.

MRS. CALLIFER: Was that so wrong?

KREUZER: You were clever at keeping them asleep, but sometimes they wake up your children.

MRS. CALLIFER (to James): Do you think I ought to go back to the station?

JAMES: Anne’s old enough. She knows her way.

MRS. CALLIFER: I can’t think how I lost her. She went ahead while I collected the luggage. She said she’d wait at the barrier.

KREUZER: Well, good-bye, Callifer. Same time next week?

JAMES: It’s no use, Doctor. We’ve failed.

KREUZER: I told you. I never give up.

JAMES (seeking an excuse): I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to play at this any longer.

KREUZER: There’ll be no charge.

Mrs. Callifer can feel the conflict between the two men, though she cannot understand it.

MRS. CALLIFER: If it’s a question of money—

KREUZER: It isn’t. It’s a question of courage.

JAMES: No. Only a question of hope.

KREUZER: Callifer, I’ve had this conversation before with someone else. I beg you …

JAMES: I shall do nothing foolishly. I’m quite calm. You can feel my pulse. (He holds out his hand.)

KREUZER (turning hopelessly away and picking up his bag): It would be useless. I should feel only the methedrine. Mrs. Callifer, if only you would help him.

JAMES: Look, I don’t want my mother troubled.

KREUZER: I thought you didn’t know what love was? Very well, then, but I’ll phone you in the morning. Good-bye, Mrs. Callifer. (He goes out.)

JAMES: He’s a good man.

MRS. CALLIFER: What did he mean? How could I help? What were you talking about before I came?

JAMES: A potting shed where something happened. Mother, why did you leave my uncle out as well as me when my father was dying?

MRS. CALLIFER: There had been a quarrel years ago.

JAMES (sitting down at his desk): I can’t remember his face.

MRS. CALLIFER: I wish you’d give up trying. He belongs to the past, James. Like your father and me. Old years are like old people. You should let them get weaker and weaker. Age is not pretty or graceful except in books. Leave old years alone, James.

JAMES: They won’t leave me alone. (A noise on the stairs.) Oh, I think the truant has turned up. (The door opens and Anne comes in. She is in her school uniform. She tries to slip in with a certain airy unobtrusiveness.)