The Early Ayn Rand

BILLY: [Indifferently] No. It's all right. I'll stay here.

[Doorbell rings]

TONY: The Dawsons?

BRECKENRIDGE: [Mysteriously] Yes, I think it's time for the Dawsons.

[CURTISS enters Right and crosses to open the door. HELEN BRECKENRIDGE enters. She is a woman of about thirty-six, tall, blond, exquisitely groomed. She is the perfect lady in the best sense of the word and she looks like the picture of a perfect wife who has always been perfectly cared for. She carries a small gift package]

HELEN: [Astonished] Why, Curtiss! What are you doing here?

CURTISS: [Bowing] Good afternoon, madam.

BRECKENRIDGE: Helen, my dear! [Kisses her on the cheek] What a pleasant surprise to see you enter! As a matter of fact, it's always a surprise to me. I can't get used to it — not after sixteen years of married life.

HELEN: [Smiling] Too nice, Walter, much too nice. [To the others] Shall I say "hello" collectively? I'm afraid I'm late and last, as usual.

[The others answer ad-lib greetings. CURTISS whispers something to BRECKENRIDGE, who nods. CURTISS exits Right]

HELEN: [To BILLY] How do you feel, dear? Was the trip too hard?

BILLY: It was all right.

HELEN: I really don't quite see why I wasn't allowed to come down with you.

BRECKENRIDGE: [Smiling] There was a reason, my dear.

HELEN: I had a perfectly beastly time getting away from the city. I envy you, Steve-living right here in Connecticut. You have no idea of the traffic on a holiday eve. Besides, I had to stop at a bookstore — and why is it that they never seem to have any clerks in book-stores? [To BRECKENRIDGE, indicating her package] I bought How Deep the Shadows for Mrs. Dawson. Mrs. Dawson has such a regrettable taste in books. But it was so nice of her — giving this party.

INGALLS: Too nice, Helen, much too nice.

HELEN: Not if it got you out of that laboratory of yours. How long since you last attended a party, Steve?

INGALLS: I'm not sure. Maybe a year.

HELEN: Maybe two?

INGALLS: Possible.

HELEN: But I'm being terribly rude. Shouldn't I say hello to our hostess? Where is our hostess?

[Nobody answers. Then BRECKENRIDGE stepsforward]

BRECKENRIDGE: [His voice gay and solemn at once] Helen, my dear, that is my surprise. You are the hostess. [She looks at him without understanding] You have always wanted a house in the country. This is it. It's yours. I had it built for you. [She stares at him,frozen] Why, my dear, what's the matter?

HELEN: [A smile coming very slowly— and not too naturally — to her face] I... I'm just... speechless... Walter. [The smile improving] You can't expect me not to be a little — overwhelmed, can you?... And I haven't even thanked you yet. I'm late again. I'm always too late... [She looks about, a little helplessly, notices the package in her hand] Well... well, I guess I'll have to read How Deep the Shadows myself. It serves me right.

BRECKENRIDGE: I am fifty years old today, Helen. Fifty. It's a long time. Half a century. And I was just... just vain and human enough to want to mark the occasion. Not for myself — but for others. How can we ever leave a mark — except upon others? This is my gift — to you.

HELEN: Walter... when did you start building it... this house?

BRECKENRIDGE: Oh, almost a year ago. Think of what I've spared you: all the bother and trouble and arguments with architects and contractors, and shopping for furniture and kitchen ranges and bathroom fixtures. Let me tell you, it's a headache and a heartache.

HELEN: Yes, Walter. You have never let me be exposed to a headache or a heartache. You have been very kind... Well... well, I hardly know where to begin... if I'm to be hostess —

BRECKENRIDGE: Everything's taken care of, my dear. Curtiss is here, and Mrs. Pudget is in the kitchen, the dinner is ordered, the drinks are ready, even the soap is in the bathrooms. I wanted you to come and find the party complete — from guests to ashtrays. I planned it that way. I don't want you to exert yourself at all.

HELEN: Well, I suppose that's that...BRECKENRIDGE: [Turning to BILLY] And, Billy, I wouldn't forget you today. Did you see — from the window of your room — that horse out on the lawn?

BILLY: Yes, Father.

BRECKENRIDGE: Well, it's yours. That's your present.