The Early Ayn Rand

[The entrance door flies open as ADRIENNE KNOWLAND enters without ringing. She is as great a contrast to the conception of a Shirley Temple or of LITTLE WOMEN as can be imagined. She is a woman of about twenty-eight, beautiful and completely unconcerned about her beauty, with sharp, angular movements and a tense, restless energy. Her clothes are simple and tailored, such as a woman would wear for a walk in the country, not the kind one would expect from a glamorous actress. She carries a small suitcase. She enters like a gust of wind and whirls upon BRECKENRIDGE]

ADRIENNE: Walter! Why in hell do they have a horse running loose out there?

BRECKENRIDGE: Adrienne, my dear! How do you -

TONY: [At the same time] A horse?

ADRIENNE: A horse. Hello, Tony. Why do they have a horse cavorting in the middle of the driveway? I almost killed the damn beast and I think I should have.

BRECKENRIDGE: I'm so sorry, my dear. Somebody's carelessness. I shall give orders to —

ADRIENNE: [Forgetting him entirely, to FLEMING] Hello, Harvey. Where have you been hiding yourself lately? Hello, Bill, old pal. I really came here just to see you again. Hello, Flash.

BRECKENRIDGE: Adrienne, my dear, may I present Serge Sookin, a new and very dear friend of mine?

ADRIENNE: How do you do, Mr. Sookin.

SERGE: [Clicking his heels and bowing] I am honored, Miss Knowland.

ADRIENNE: [Looking at the room] Well, I think this place is — [Her glance stops on INGALLS, who is standing aside. She throws at him curtly, as an afterthought:] Hello, Steve. [She turns away from him before he has had time to complete his bow] I think this place is — what one would expect it to be.

BRECKENRIDGE: Would you like to see your room, my dear?

ADRIENNE: No hurry. [Tears her hat off and tosses it halfway across the room. To FLASH, indicating her suitcase:] Flash, be an angel and take my stuff out of the way, will you? [FLASH exits up the stairs with the suitcase. ADRIENNE walks to sideboard and pours herself a drink] Incidentally, where's the host? BRECKENRIDGE: Mr. and Mrs. Dawson are not here yet. ADRIENNE: Not here? That's a new one in etiquette. Oh, and yes, of course, happy birthday.

BRECKENRIDGE: Thank you, my dear.

ADRIENNE: How's the infernal machine?

BRECKENRIDGE: The what?

ADRIENNE: The gadget with cosmic rays that the papers have been yelping about.

BRECKENRIDGE: The papers might do some real yelping about it soon. Very soon.

TONY: I heard it's really a colossal invention, Adrienne.

ADRIENNE: Another one? I think it's outrageous — the amount of space that the Breckenridge Laboratories have always managed to hog in the newspapers. But then, Walter has a genius for not remaining unnoticed. Like a stripteaser.

INGALLS: Or an actress.

ADRIENNE: [Whirls to him, then away, and repeats calmly, her voice a little hard] Or an actress.

SERGE: [Breaks the uncomfortable little silence, speaking hotly and with a defiant sort of respect] The stage — it is a great art. It helps such as suffer and are poor, all the misery and the sadness it makes forget for the few hours. The theater — it is the noble work of the humanitarianism.

ADRIENNE: [Looks at him very coldly, then turns to BRECKENRIDGE and says dryly:] Congratulations, Walter.

BRECKENRIDGE: What?

ADRIENNE: Your very dear friend is a real find, isn't he? Out of what gutter did you pick him up?

SERGE: [Stiffly] Miss Knowland...!

ADRIENNE: But, sweetheart, there's no need to look so Russian about it. I meant it in the nicest way. Besides, it goes for me, too, and for all of us here. We were all picked up by Walter out of one gutter or another. That's why he's a great man.

SERGE: I do not understand.