BRECKENRIDGE: What do you mean?
INGALLS: And another thing, Walter, is that you always know what I mean.
BRECKENRIDGE: [Does not answer. Then looks impatiently at door Right] I wish they'd bring Billy out. What is he doing there with Harvey? [Goes to ring bell]
TONY: Who else is coming?
BRECKENRIDGE: We're almost all here, except Adrienne. I've sent the car to meet Helen.
SERGE: Adrienne? It is not perhaps Miss Adrienne Knowland?
BRECKENRIDGE: Yes.
[CURTISS enters Right]
CURTISS: Yes, sir?
BRECKENRIDGE: Please tell Mr. Kozinsky to bring Billy out here.
CURTISS: Yes, sir. [Exits Right]
SERGE: It is not the great Adrienne Knowland?
INGALLS: There's only one Adrienne Knowland, Serge. But the adjective is optional.
SERGE: Oh, I am so happy that I should meet her in the person! I have seen her in that so beautiful play — Little Women. I have wondered so often what she is like in the real life. I have thought she must be sweet and lovely — like Mademoiselle Shirley Temple in the cinema, when I was a little boy in Moscow. INGALLS: Yeah?
BRECKENRIDGE: Please, Steve. We know you don't like Adrienne, but couldn't you control it for just a few hours?
[HARVEY FLEMING enters Right and holds the door open for FLASH KOZINSKY, who comes in pushing BILLY BRECKENRIDGE in a wheelchair. BILLY is a boy of fifteen, pale, thin, strangely quiet and a little too well-mannered. FLASH does not carry a college pennant, but "football hero" is written all over him as plainly as if he did. He is young, husky, pleasant-looking, and not too bright. As he wheels the chair in, he bumps it against the doorjamb]
FLEMING: Careful, you clumsy fool!
BILLY: It's all right... Mr. Fleming.
BRECKENRIDGE: Well, Billy! Feel rested after the trip?
BILLY: Yes, Father.
INGALLS: Hello, Bill.
BILLY: Hello, Steve.
FLASH: [Turns to FLEMING. It has taken all this time to penetrate] Say, you can't talk to me like that! FLEMING: Huh?
FLASH: Who are you to talk to me like that?
FLEMING: Skip it
BRECKENRIDGE: [Indicating SERGE] Billy, you remember Mr. Sookin?
BILLY: How do you do, Mr. Sookin.
SERGE: Good afternoon, Billy. Feeling better, no? You look wonderful.
FLEMING: He looks like hell.
BILLY: I'm all right.
SERGE: You are not comfortable maybe? This pillow it is not right. [Adjusts the pillow behind BILLY's head] So! It is better?
BILLY: Thank you.
SERGE: I think the footrest it should be higher. [Adjusts the footrest] So?
BILLY: Thank you.
SERGE: I think perhaps it is a little chilly. You want I should bring the warm shawl?
BILLY: [Very quietly] Leave me alone, will you please?
BRECKENRIDGE: There, there! Billy's just a little nervous. The trip was too much for him — in his condition.
[FLEMING walks brusquely to the sideboard and starts pouring himself a glass of whiskey]
BILLY: [His eyes following FLEMING anxiously, his voice low and almost pleading] Don't do that, Mr. Fleming.
FLEMING: [Looks at him, then puts the bottle down. Quietly:] Okay, kid.
SERGE: [To BRECKENRIDGE, in what he intends to be a whisper] Your poor son, how long he has this paralysis? BRECKENRIDGE: Sh-sh.
BILLY: Six years and four months, Mr. Sookin.
[There is a moment of embarrassed silence. FLASH looks from one face to
another, then bursts out suddenly and loudly:]
FLASH: Well, I don't know what the rest of you think, but I think Mr. Sookin shouldn't've asked that.
FLEMING: Keep still.
FLASH: Well, I think -
[There is a frightening screech of brakes offstage and the sound of a car being stopped violently. A car door is slammed with a bang and a lovely, husky feminine voice yells: "Goddamn it!"]
INGALLS: [With a courtly gesture of introduction in the direction of the sound] There's Mademoiselle Shirley Temple...!
