LEGEND ON SCREEN: 'ANNUNCIATION'. Fade With music.
[It is early dusk on a spring evening. Supper has jot been finished in the Wingfield apartment. AMANDA and LAURA in light-coloured dresses are removing dishes from the table, in the upstage area, which is shadowy, their movements formalized almost as a dance or ritual their moving forms as pale and silent as moths.
TOM, in white shirt and trousers, rises from do table and crosses toward the fire-escape.]
AMANDA [As he passes her]: Son, Will you do me a favour?
TOM: What?
AMANDA: Comb your hair! You look so pretty when your hair is combed! [Tom slouches on sofa with evening paper. Enormous caption 'Franco Triumphs'.] There is only one respect in which I would like you to emulate your father.
TOM: What respect is that?
AMANDA: The care he always took of his appearance. He never allowed himself to look untidy. [He throws down the paper and crosses to fire-escape] Where are you going?
TOM: I'm going out to smoke.
AMANDA: You smoke too much. A pack a day at fifteen cents a pack. How much would that amount to in a month? Thirty times fifteen is how much, Tom? Figure it out and you will be astounded at what you could save. Enough to give you a night-school course in accounting at Washington U ! Just think what a wonderful thing that would be for you, Son !
[TOM is unmoved by the thought.]
TOM: I'd rather smoke. [He steps out on the landing letting the screen door slam.]
AMANDA [sharply]: I know !That's the tragedy of it. [Alone, she turns to look at her husband's picture.]
[DANCE MUSIC: 'ALL THE WORLD IS WAITING FOR THE SUNRISE !']
[It is early dusk on a spring evening. Supper has jot been finished in the Wingfield apartment. AMANDA and LAURA in light-coloured dresses are removing dishes from the table, in the upstage area, which is shadowy, their movements formalized almost as a dance or ritual their moving forms as pale and silent as moths.
TOM, in white shirt and trousers, rises from do table and crosses toward the fire-escape.]
AMANDA [As he passes her]: Son, Will you do me a favour?
TOM: What?
AMANDA: Comb your hair! You look so pretty when your hair is combed! [Tom slouches on sofa with evening paper. Enormous caption 'Franco Triumphs'.] There is only one respect in which I would like you to emulate your father.
TOM: What respect is that?
AMANDA: The care he always took of his appearance. He never allowed himself to look untidy. [He throws down the paper and crosses to fire-escape] Where are you going?
TOM: I'm going out to smoke.
AMANDA: You smoke too much. A pack a day at fifteen cents a pack. How much would that amount to in a month? Thirty times fifteen is how much, Tom? Figure it out and you will be astounded at what you could save. Enough to give you a night-school course in accounting at Washington U ! Just think what a wonderful thing that would be for you, Son !
[TOM is unmoved by the thought.]
TOM: I'd rather smoke. [He steps out on the landing letting the screen door slam.]
AMANDA [sharply]: I know !That's the tragedy of it. [Alone, she turns to look at her husband's picture.]
[DANCE MUSIC: 'ALL THE WORLD IS WAITING FOR THE SUNRISE !']
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