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Don: I think everything might as well come out now. (He turns toward STEVE.)
Your wife's done plenty of talking, Steve, about how odd you are!
Charlie (picking this up, his eyes widening): Go ahead, tell us what she's said.
(STEVE walks toward them from across the street.)
Steve: Go ahead, what's my wife said? Let's get it all out. Let's pick out every unusual habit of every single man, woman, and child on the street. And then we might as well set up some kind of a kangaroo court. How about a firing squad at dawn, Charlie, so we can get rid of all the suspects?
Don: There's no need getting so upset, Steve. It's just that... well... Myra's talked about how there's been plenty of nights you spent hours down in your basement workin' on some kind of radio.
(By this time STEVE has reached the group. He stands there defiantly close to them.)
Charlie: Go ahead, Steve. What kind of "radio set" are you workin'on? Who do you talk to on the radio set? And who talks to you?
Steve: I'm surprised at you, Charlie. How come you're so dense all of a sudden? (a pause) Who do I talk to? I talk to monsters from outer space. I talk to three—headed green men who fly over here in what look like meteors.
(MRS. BRAND steps down from the porch, bites her lip, calls out.)
