CLAIRE rises—­steps back—­is seen now; is looking down) Gift.

(Like one who does not know where she is, she moves into the room—­looks around.  Takes a step toward Breath of Life; turns and goes quickly to the door.  Stops, as if stopped.  Sees the revolver where the Edge Vine was.  Slowly goes to it.  Holds it as if she cannot think what it is for.  Then raises it high and fires above through the place in the glass left open for ventilation.  ANTHONY comes from the inner room.  His eyes go from her to the body beyond.  HARRY rushes in from outside.)

HARRY:  Who fired that?

CLAIRE:  I did.  Lonely.

(Seeing ANTHONY’S look, HARRY ’s eyes follow it.)

HARRY:  Oh!  What?  What? (DICK comes running in) Who?  Claire!

(DICK sees—­goes to TOM)

CLAIRE:  Yes.  I did it.  MY—­Gift.

HARRY:  Is he—?  He isn’t—?  He isn’t—?

(Tries to go in there.  Cannot—­there is the sound of broken glass, of a position being changed—­then DICK reappears.)

DICK:  (his voice in jerks) It’s—­it’s no use, but I’ll go for a doctor.

HARRY:  No—­no.  Oh, I suppose—­(falling down beside CLAIRE—­his face against her) My darling!  How can I save you now?

CLAIRE:  (speaking each word very carefully) Saved—­myself.

ANTHONY:  I did it.  Don’t you see?  I didn’t want so many around.  Not—­what this place is for.

HARRY:  (snatching at this but lets it go) She wouldn’t let—­(looking up at CLAIRE—­then quickly hiding his face) And—­don’t you see?

CLAIRE:  Out. (a little like a child’s pleased surprise) Out.

(DICK stands there, as if unable to get to the door—­his face distorted, biting his hand.)

ANTHONY:  Miss Claire!  You can do anything—­won’t you try?

CLAIRE:  Reminiscence? (speaking the word as if she has left even that, but smiles a little)

(ANTHONY takes Reminiscence, the flower she was breeding for fragrance for Breath of Life—­holds it out to her.  But she has taken a step forward, past them all.)

CLAIRE:  Out. (as if feeling her way)
  Nearer,
      (Her voice now feeling the way to it.)
  Nearer—­
      (Voice almost upon it.)
  —­my God,
      (Falling upon it with surprise.)
  to Thee,
      (Breathing it.)
  Nearer—­to Thee,
  E’en though it be—­
      (A slight turn of the head toward the dead man she loves—­a
      mechanical turn just as far the other way.)
  a cross
  That
      (Her head going down.)
  raises me;
      (Her head slowly coming up—­singing it.)
  Still all my song shall be,
  Nearer, my—­

(Slowly the curtain begins to shut her out.  The last word heard is the final Nearer—­a faint breath from far.)