You're saving one.
MAGGIE (_caught in an act of sentiment and apologetically_).
I thought I'd press it in my Bible for a keepsake, Will. I'm not
beyond liking to be reminded of this day.
(_She looks at screen and yawns_.)
Lord, I'm tired. I reckon I'll leave those pots till morning.
It's a slackish way of starting, but I don't get married every
day.
WILLIE (_industrious at his slate_). No.
MAGGIE. I'm for my bed. You finish that copy before you come.
WILLIE. Yes, Maggie.
(_Exit_ MAGGIE _to bedroom, with the flower. She closes
door_. WILL _copies, repeats letters and words as he writes
them slowly, finishes, then rises and rakes out fire. He looks
shyly at bedroom door, sits and takes his boots off. He rises,
boots in hand, moves towards door, hesitates, and turns back,
puts boots down at door, then returns to table and takes off his
collar. Then hesitates again, finally makes up his mind, puts out
light, and lies down on sofa with occasional glances at the
bedroom door. At first he faces the fire. He is uncomfortable. He
turns over and faces the door. In a minute_ MAGGIE _opens
the bedroom door. She has a candle and is in a plain calico
night-dress. She comes to_ WILL, _shines the light on him,
takes him by the ear, and returns with him to bedroom_).
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