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in the neighborhood, just off Broadway, and on a long shot I went over to see Mr. Liebrreund—he runs ABC. I was wondering if they may have done any work for Wanamaker’s.
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CASE: Wanamaker’s! What’s Wanamaker’s got to do with it?
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GELLBURG: I buy my shirts in Wanamaker’s, and last time I was in there I caught my shoe on a splinter sticking up out of the floor.
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CASE: Well that store is probably fifty years old.
    GELLBURG: Closer to seventy-five. I tripped and almost fell down; this was very remarkable to me, that they would leave a floor in such condition. So I began wondering about it ...
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CASE: About what?
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GELLBURG: Number 611 is two blocks from Wanamaker’s. A little extra-wise grin. They’re the biggest business in the area, a whole square block, after all. Anyway, sure enough, turns out ABC does all Wanamaker’s plumbing work. And Liebfreund tells me he’s had to keep patching up their boilers because they canceled installation of new boilers last winter. A permanent cancellation.
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Pause.
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CASE: And what do you make of that?
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GELLBURG: I think it could mean they’re either moving the store, or maybe going out of business.
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CASE: Wanamaker’s?
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GELLBURG: It’s possible, I understand the family is practically died out. Either way, if Wanamaker’s disappears, Mr. Case, that neighborhood in my opinion is no longer prime. Also, I called Kevin Sullivan over at Title Guarantee and he says they turned down 611 last year and he can’t remember why.
    CASE: Then what are you telling me?
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GELLBURG: I would not touch Number 611 with a ten-foot 
pole-unless you can get it at a good defensive price. If that neighborhood starts to slide, 611 is a great big slice of lemon.
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CASE: Well. That’s very disappointing. It would have made a wonderful club annex.
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GELLBURG: With a thing like the Harvard Club you have got to think of the far distant future, Mr. Case, I don’t have to tell you that, and the future of that part of Broadway is a definite possible negative. Raising a monitory finger: I emphasize “possible,” mind you; only God can predict.
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CASE: Well I must say, I would never have thought of Wanamaker’s disappearing. You’ve been more than thorough, Gellburg, we appreciate it. I’ve got to run now, but we’ll talk about this further ... Glances at his watch. Mustn’t 
miss the tide ... Moves, indicates. Take a brandy if you like. Wife all right?
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GELLBURG: Oh yes, she’s fine!
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CASE, the faint shadow of a warning: Sure everything’s all right with you—we don’t want you getting sick now.
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GELLBURG: Oh no, I’m very well, very well.
    CASE: I’ll be back on Monday, we’ll go into this further. Indicates. Take a brandy if you like.
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Case exits rather jauntily.
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GELLBURG: Yes, sir, I might!
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Gellburg stands alone; with a look of self-satisfaction starts to raise the glass.
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Blackout.

SCENE FIVE
    The cello plays, and the music falls away.
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Sylvia in bed, reading a book. She looks up as Hyman enters. He is in his riding clothes. Sylvia has a certain excitement at seeing him.
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SYLVIA: Oh, doctor!
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HYMAN: I let myself in, hope I didn’t scare you...
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SYLVIA: Oh no, I’m glad. Sit down. You been riding?
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HYMAN: Yes. All the way down to Brighton Beach, nice long ride—I expected to see you jumping rope by now.
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Sylvia laughs, embarrassed.
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I think you’re just trying to get out of doing the dishes.
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SYLVIA, strained laugh: Oh stop. You really love riding, don’t you?
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HYMAN: Well there’s no telephone on a horse.
    She laughs.
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Ocean Parkway is like a German forest this time of the morning—riding under that archway of maple trees is like poetry.
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SYLVIA: Wonderful. I never did anything