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[Then with furious resentment]

The old fool! what does he mean coming in on us without warning?

[Forcing a pitiful smile to his lips]

Hello, Nina. I know it’s an imposition—but—I’ve been in such a terrible state since Mother—

[He falters, his face becomes distorted into an ugly mask of grief, his eyes water]

[Immediately sympathetic, gets up and goes to him impulsively]

There’s no question of imposition, Charlie. We were expecting you.

[''She has come to him and put her arms around him. He gives way and sobs, his head against her shoulder'']

[Brokenly]

You don’t know, Nina—how terrible—it’s terrible!—

[Leading him to the chair at center, soothingly]

I know, Charlie.

[Thinking with helpless annoyance]

Oh, dear, what can I say? his mother hated me I’m not glad she’s dead  but neither am I sorry

[With a trace of contempt]

Poor Charlie he was so tied to her apron strings

[Then kindly but condescendingly, comforting him]

Poor old Charlie!