HILDA. He's not your enemy; he merely looks at it all differently.
WHITE. I was thinking of his calm contempt for me these twenty years--ever since you married me--"out of your class," as he called it.
HILDA. Oh, hush, Will. I've been so happy with you I can bear him no ill will. Besides, doesn't his attitude seem natural? You mustn't forget that no man in this country has fought his class more than you. That hurts--especially coming from an _acquired_ relative.
WHITE. Yes; that aggravates the offense. And I'll tell you something you may not know. (_Bitterly_) Whenever I've spoken against privilege and wealth it's been his pudgy, comfortable face I've shaken my fist at. He's been so damned comfortable all his life.
HILDA. (_She looks at him in surprise._) Why, Will, you surely don't envy him his comfort, do you? I can't make you out. What's come over you these last weeks? You've always been above such personal bitterness; even when you were most condemned and ridiculed. If it were anybody but you I'd think you had done something you were ashamed of.
HILDA. Haven't you sometimes noticed that is what bitterness to another means: a failure within oneself? (_He goes over to chair and sits without answering._) I can think of you beaten by outside things--that sort of failure we all meet; but somehow I can never think of you failing yourself. You've been so brave and self-reliant: you've fought so hard for the truth.
WHITE (_tapping letter_). But he thinks he knows the truth, too.
WHITE (_thoughtfully after a pause_). Yet there is _some_ truth in what he says.
HILDA (_smiling_). But you didn't like it--coming from him?
WHITE. It will be different with you and me now that America's gone in.
HILDA. Yes. It will be harder for us here; for hate is always farthest from the trenches. But you and I are not the sort who would compromise to escape the persecution which is the resource of the non-combatant.
(_The phone rings: he looks at his watch._)
HILDA. Let me. (_She goes._) It may be Wallace. (_At phone_) Yes: this is 116 Chelsea. Long Distance? (_He starts as she says to him_) It must be our boy. (_At phone_) Who? Oh--Mr. William White? Yes: he'll be here. (_She hangs up receiver._) She'll ring when she gets the connection through.