In here, darling.
YOUNG JACK
(Bursts in, out of breath)
Mother, it was wonderful, we—
(Sees the basin)
What’s that?
The lid shuts, with a SNAP; the music stops.
MOTHER
My washing. Tell me about your trip.
YOUNG JACK
(Distracted)
Yes, we—
(Peers closer)
—but it’s all . . . red.
MOTHER
Dear, you’re flushed. Really, you mustn’t concern yourself . . .
YOUNG JACK
(Realizing)
Red—it’s blood, isn’t it? It’s full of blood!
MOTHER
(Soothing)
There, there—
(He continues to gasp; she shakes him)
Stop that! Listen to me, will you? Will you listen?
YOUNG JACK
Of course, I . . .
(A beat)
Whose blood is it?
MOTHER
Mine.