The Thirteenth Chair (1917).pdf
HELEN. Please, let me say it all. You have social position, great wealth,
charming friends, everything that makes life worth—Oh, what's the use?
You know as well as I do the great difference between us, and—
MRS. CROSBY. My dear child, suppose we admit all that, what then?
HELEN. But don't you see—
WILLIAM (embracing her in front of table R.). You little idiot! I don't see
anything but you.
MRS. CROSBY. You love each other, that's the whole of it, children.
Suppose you listen to an old woman.
WILLIAM. Old! Huh!
MRS. CROSBY. Well, old enough. If Billy was the usual rich man's son it
might be different. There might be something in what you say. But thank
God he isn't. Mind you, I don't say he wasn't like most of them when he was
younger. I dare say he was, I know he went to supper with a chorus girl
HELEN. What was she like?
WILLIAM. Like a chorus girl.
MRS. CROSBY. The trouble with you, my dear, is that you've been reading
novels. When Billy's father married me, I was a school teacher, and he was a
clerk. We didn't have any money, but we were awfully in love—we still
rather like each other. Now just for the sake of argument, suppose we should
have acted like stern parents, what would be the use? Billy's in business for
himself, he's making his own money, he can marry when he wants to and as
he wants to, and if you want my real opinion, I don't mind confessing that I
think he's pretty lucky to get you.
HELEN. But you know so little about me.
WILLIAM. Oh, rot!
MRS. CROSBY (to WILLIAM). Thank you, Billy. I was trying to think of
an effective word. (To HELEN.) You've been my private secretary for over a
year, and no matter how much my looks belie it, I'm not a bit of a fool. I
know a great deal about you.